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Dr. Kate Gordon 






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Copyright, 1905, 
By Longmans, Green, & Co. 

All rights reserved. 



Ed. /Psych. 


nnHB present volume contains Parts I and II of a larger 
-*- work, "Problems in Abnormal Psychology," but it is 
complete in itself. It is a study of disintegrated person- 
ality, as exemplified by the very remarkable case of Miss 
Beauchamp. In this study I have (a) traced the develop- 
ment of the different personalities which originated through 
the disintegration of the normal self, and (6) shown their 
psychological relations to one another and to the normal 
self. By giving (c) a detailed account of the daily life of 
the personalities, after the manner of a biography, I have 
sought to show their behavior to the environment and the 
way in which a disintegrated personality can adapt itself 
to the circumstances of life, and how it fails to do so. 

Selections from recorded observations, many times in 
number those here given, have been made use of with the 
view of familiarizing the reader with the main phenomena, 
.80 that when we come to consider in another volume the 
psychological problems involved, we shall have a knowl- 
edge of the fundamental data. These phenomena have 
been briefly discussed in this volume as an introduction 
to a deeper study. 

By departing from the customary way of treating these 
phenomena and introducing them in the course of a 



biography, I have been enabled to present them without 
removing them from their psychological setting. This 
method, too, has permitted not only greater latitude in 
their presentation, but, it seems to me, will tend to give a 
deeper meaning to the phenomena themselves and a better 
appreciation of those normal and abnormal alterations of 
the human mind which are met with in practical life. 

While 1 have sought to interpret the various phenomena 
observed in ways which seem to me to be the logical 
inductions from the observations herein recorded, and from 
the established data of abnormal psychology, my first aim 
has been to secure the accuracy of the observations 

A brief preliminary report of this case, under the title 
of "The Problem of Multiple Personality," was presented 
at the International Congress of Psychology, held in Paris, 
August, 1900. 

In Part III, which will be issued as a separate volume, 
it is my present intention to discuss a series of problems 
which will include : 

(a) The theory of this case and of disintegrated 
personality in general; 

(6) The Subconscious under normal and abnormal 

conditions ; 
(c) Hypnosis, Sleep, Dreams, and Somnambulism ; 
(c?) Hysteria ; 
(e) Neurasthenic States ; 
(/) Alterations of Character; 
(^) Hallucinations, Fixed Ideas, Aboulia, Amnesia, etc. 


Abnormal psychology is fast forging to the front as an 
important field of research. The signs of the times point 
to this field, which has long awaited investigation by modern 
methods, as one to which scientific thought is now being 
directed and one which promises results of importance. 
Much work has already been accomplished, and a good 
beginning made. The ground, however, has only been 
opened, and rich rewards await the investigator. I trust 
that the present work will prove a contribution to our 
knowledge of the subject. • 

458 Beacon Street, Boston, 
August, 1905. 




Chapter Page 

I. Introductory 1 

II. Miss Beauchamp 9 

III. The Birth of Sally 20 

IV. The Beginnings of Automatism 52 

V. Instability and Suggestibility 64 

VI. How Sally Got her Eyes Open and the 
Subconscious Became an • Alternating 

Personality ^ 91 

VII. Sally "on Top of the Heap" 102 

VIII. Subconscious Battles : Aboulia, Impulsions, 

Obsessions 119 

IX. Sally as a Subconscious and as an Alter- 
nating Personality 144 

X. Sally Torments Miss Beauchamp with Prac- 
tical Jokes 156 

XI. The Birth of B IV, "the Idiot" .... 171 

XII. A House Divided against itself .... 187 

XIII. The Birth of B I, "the Saint" .... 210 



XIV. Is not B IV the Real Miss Beauchamp? . 231 

XV. Dissociations of Consciousness : Amnesia . 251 
XVI. An Important Discovery: B I and B IV when 

Hypnotized Become the Same Person . 266 


Chapter Page 

XVII. Studies in Character 283 

XVIII. Is B II THE Real Miss Beauchamp? — B la 302 
XIX. Sally Hypnotizes B IV and Fights for 

Control 310 

XX. Dreams. B I and B IV Become the Same 

Person when Asleep 326 

XXI. The Psychology of Sudden Conversion : 
Miss Beauchamp Falls into a State of 
Ecstasy and Believes herself Cured . 344 
XXII. Sally Plays Medium (Subconscious Writing) 356 

XXIII. The Autobiography of a Subconscious Self 367 

XXIV. How B I AND B IV were Made One Person, 

AND THE Unexpected Consequences . . . 398 

XXV. Social Life in 1900 418 

XXVI. Sally Succeeds in Becoming Conscious of 
B IV's Thoughts and is Astounded at 

what she Learns 435 

XXVII. B IV a AND Types of Disintegration . . . 444 

I XXVIII. Emotion and Disintegration 456 

XXIX. Types of Disintegration : Mental Strain as 

A Cause 462 

XXX. A Contest between Personalities .... 476 

XXXI. A Hallucination from the Subconscious . 505 
XXXII. The Real Miss Beauchamp at Last, and how 

SHE WAS Found 514 

Appendices 627 

Index 565 








MISS Christine L. Beauchamp,i the subject of this 
study, is a person in whom several personalities 
have become developed ; that is to say, she may change 
her personality from time to time, often from hour to hour, 
and with each change her character becomes transformed 
and her memoiies altered. In addition to the real, original 
or normal self, the self that was born and which she was 
intended by nature to be, she may be any one of three 
different persons. I say three different, because, although 
making use of the same body, each, nevertheless, has a 
distinctly different chara cter; a difference manifested by 
different trains of thougKt, by different views, belie fs, 
ideals, ^nd temperament, and by different acq uisiti ons, 
tastes, ha bits, 6J!.pBritJllues, and memories, Each varies in 
these respects from th6 other' twoV and from the original 
Miss Beauchamp. Two of these personalities have no 
knowledge of each other or of tlie third, excepting such 
information as may be obtained by inference or second 

* Pronounced Beecham. This name, which I have adopted for the pur- 
pose of disguising the identity of the subject, was originally taken in the 
spirit of fun by one only of the personalities to distinguish herself from the 
others. I have used the name for all three. 



hand, so that in the memory of each of these two there 
are blanks which correspond to the times when the others 
are in the flesh. Of a sudden one or the other wakes 
up to find herself, she knows not where, and ignorant of 
what she has said or done a moment before. Only one of 
the three has knowledge of the lives of the others, and this 
one presents such a bizarre character, so far removed from 
the others in individuality, that the transformation from 
one of the other personalities to herself is one of the most 
"striking and dramatic features of the case. The person- 
alities come and go in kaleidoscopic succession, many 
changes often being made in the course of twenty-four 
hours. And so it happens that Miss Beauchamp, if I may 
use the name to designate several distinct people, at one 
moment says and does and plans and arranges something 
to which a short time before she most strongly objected, 
indulges tastes which a moment before would have been 
abhorrent to her ideals, and undoes or destroys what she 
had just laboriously planned and arranged. 

Aside from the psychological interest of the phenomena, 
the s'ocial complications and embarrassments resulting from 
this inconvenient mode of living would furnish a multi- 
tude of plots for the dramatist or sensational novelist. 
Considered simply as a biography, therefore, an account of 
Miss Beauchamp's later life could scarcely fail to interest, 
if it were told divested of the details which are necessary 
for the purpose of scientific study. 

Miss Beauchamp is an example in actual life of the 
imaginative creation of Stevenson, only, I am hapj)y to say, 
the allegorical representation of the evil side of human 
nature finds no counterpart in her makeup. The splittin g 
of personality is along intellectual and temperamental, not 
along ^t h1(^fl.1 hy^pg n^ ^'pfi^ age. .bor although the char- 
acters of the personalities widely differ, the variations are 
along the lines of nwyr^p, t^mpej^ame nt, and tas tes. Each 
personaUty is incapable of doing evil to others. 


Cases of this kind are commonly known as " double " or 
" multiple personality," accoixiing to the number of persons 
represented, but a moTe^coTi^QLijQniOiiQ AmMeu^af^d per- 
sonality, for each secondary perso nality is a part Qnly ,of_a 
normal whole^gglfa^^. No one se condary personality pre- 
serves the whole psychical life of the indiyidual. The 
synthesis of the original consciousness known as the per- 
sonal ego is broken up, so to speak, and shorn of some of 
its memories, perceptions, acquisitions, or modes of reaction 
to the enyironment. The conscious states that still persist, 
synthesized among themselyes, form a new personality ca- 
pable of independent activity. This second personality 
may alternate with the original undisintegrated personality 
from time to time. By a breaking up of the original 
personality at different moments along different lines of 
cleavage, there may be formed several different secondary 
personalities which may take turns with one another. 
Again, in the breakup certain conscious states, which are 
rejected in the synthesis of the new personality, may remain 
outside the consciousness of the latter, synthesized among 
themselves, and thus form a second simultaneously/ acting 
consciousness. This is called a subconsciousness. It will 
thus be seen that secondary perso nalities are formed by the 
disintegration of the original norniul personalities. Dis- 
integratrdiaras thus used must not be confused with the 
same term sometimes employed in the sense of degenera- 
tion, meaning a destroyed mind or organically diseased 
brain. Degeneration implies destruction of normal psychi- 
cal processes, and may be equivalent to insanity ; whereas 
J;he disintegration resulting in multiple personality is only 
a functional dissociation of that complex organization which 
constitutes a normal self. The elementary psychical pro- 
cesses, in themselves normal, aTe capable of being reassoci- 
ated into a nonnal whole. 

Quite a number of cases of disintegrated or multiple 
personality have been observed, sufficient to establish be* 


yond all doubt the bona fide character of tlie phenomena, as 
well as the general principles underlying their develop- 
ment. The cases thus far studied aiid reported have repre- 
sented varying degrees of complexity of organization of 
mental Ttates and independence of the personaUties. I u _ 
me simplerroms the secondary personalities are manifested 
through highly syrilhesized " automatic " or hypnotic phe- 
nomena, and are recognized only as subconscious states 
through so-called automatic writing, and kindred mani- 
festations, or else as states of hypnosisv The ^tate called 
" Mamie," in the case of Mrs. R., repoi-ted by the writer,^ 
^J and those of L^ontine and Ldonore in the case of Madame 
B., described by Dr. Pierre Janet, are examples of this 
■ simpler class. 

1^ Inm ore fully developedforms the second personalities 
are identical with the trance states of mediums, like that 
of Miss "Smith," st udied by M^ Floui-noy, and that of 
Mrs. " Sme ad,* studied By Professor jlyslop. In such 
cases the second personalii ^^oes not obtain a completely 
independent existence, but comes out of its^shell, so to 
speak, only under special conditions when the subject 
goes into a "trance." The external life of personalities i 
of this sort, so far as it is carried on independently of 
the principal consciousness, is extremely restricted, being 
confined to the experiences of the so-called "seance." 
Although such a personality is complete in having posses- 
sion of the faculties of an ordinary human being, there is 
very little independence in the sense of a person who 
spontaneously and voluntarily moves about in a social 
world, and works, acts, and plays like any human being. 
It is questionable how far such a personality would be 
capable of carrying on all the functions of a social life, and 
of adapting itself to its environment; Hypnotic states, 
'tlm t is. artificially induced types of disintegration, are 

1 Boston Med. and Surgical Jourual, May 15, 1890. 



rarelXi,iL6yer, sufficientl^cfimplete, and possessed of ade- 
quate spontaneous iidaptability to the environment to con- 
stitute veritable personalities. j 

In the most fully developed forms, in cases like^ that- 
of Felida X., reported by M. Azam ; of Louis Vive, stud- 
ied by several French observers; and of Ansel Bourne, 
studied by Dr. Richard Hodgson and Professor William 
James, the disintegrated personality retains that large 
degree of complexity of mental organization whichTper- 
mits complete, free, and spontaneous activity, approx- 
imating, at least, that of normal mental life. Though 
some cases exhibit glaring mental and physical defects, 
others may, to the ordinary observer, exhibit nothing more 
than an alteration of character and loss of memory for 
certain periods of life. Such persons often pass before 
the world as mentally healthy persons, though physically 
they may be neurasthenic. But a careful psychological 
examination will reveal deviations from the normal which 
show the true character of the alteration. It is to this 
last category that Miss Beauchamp belongs. In any one 
of her mental states she is capable of living her social 
life and doing her daily duties, subject only to the limita- 
tion set by poor general health ; and, as a matter of fact, 
eacli personality leads its own life like any other mort al.^ 

In some cases there is no loss of memory, and then it may 
be difficult to recognize that we have to do with a true dis- 
integrated, personality, and not with only a neurasthenic or 
hysterical condition. Such cases are generally overlooked. 
One of the personalities in this case was of this type. 

The mode of development of phenomena of this sort, the 
relation of the personalities to one another, and the be- 
haviour of the disintegrated minds to artificial excitations 
and the environment are fascinating objects of study, not 
only for the phenomena themselves, but for the light which 
they throw upon the functioning of the human mind. 


Miss Beauchamp has been under observation of one kind 
or another for many yeai-s, enabling her friends and those 
particularly interested in her to know her well. She has 
been under the writer's professional care for more than 
seven years, that is, since the early part of 1898._ During* 
'most of this time she has been under constant and often 
for long periods daily observation. 

For a satisfactory comprehension of the mental phenom- 
ena which are the object of this study, as well as of the 
causes, physical and psychical, which led to their develop- 
ment, it is desirable that the reader should have some 
knowledge of the character of Miss Beauchamp, and of her 
heredity and early life. 

It will be understood that the writer feels some delicacy 
in giving publicity to the private life — even though the 
identity be concealed — of a sensitive, refined person, 
who, by natural instinct, shrinks from any discussion 
of herself ; and, though her free permission has been given 
for study and publication, I shall Hmit all account of 
her personal and family characteristics to the narrowest 
limits that are compatible with the requirements of the 

When speaking of the characteristics of "Miss Beau- 
champ," or when I say " she " or " her," it may perti- 
nently be asked, " Which Miss Beauchamp ? " or " Which 
she ? " It wiU facilitate a comprehension of the important 
features of the case, and a better appreciation of the various 
situations, as they unfolded themselves in this psycholog- 
ical drama, if for the present the name Miss Beauchamp is 
limited to the pei-son with whom I first became acquainted 
and who was known to her intimate friends, schoolmates, 
and teachei-s. Whether or not this Miss Beauchamp was 
the Real Miss Beauchamp was a question which there was 
no reason at that time to raise, and whether she was or not 
I shall let the history of this case disclose. My first a<5- 


quaintance was entirely professional, and there was no 
ground to suspect that any other personality existed. 

The Miss Beauchamp whom I first knew was the only 
one known to a small but appreciative circle of friends, 
whose solicitude she had awakened. She was in college 
at the time, highly regarded by her teachers and classmates, 
and recognized as a diligent and conscientious student. 
Whatever the future was to reveal, it was this person 
alone who for years had been known as Miss Beauchamp, 
and who had been educated, cared for and esteemed as 
Miss Beauchamp. Let it be understood, then, that in 
describing Miss Beauchamp, or whenever referring to her, 
the name, unless otherwise qualified, refers to the first 
Miss Beauchamp, the one who first came under observation. 
At a later period, for the sake of brevity, and for the pur- 
pose of distinguishing her from the others, she was also 
named B I. The other personalities and hypnotic selves 
were designated B II, B III, B IV, etc., as they appeared. 
These somewhat clumsy terms were employed to avoid 
committal to any hypothesis until the phenomena had been 
thoroughly studied. 

It is important to bear in mind the fact that Miss Beau- 
champ was well known, even if her circle was a small one, 
and that when she came under observation she had es- 
tablished during the course of a number of years strong 
bonds of association with her friends. If it turned out 
that our protdg^ was not after all the real person who had 
been born into this world, it still should be kept in mind 
that no reason appeared until a comparatively recent 
period, to suspect the possible previous existence of any 
other personality. 

During the past six years ^ (1898-1904) the three per- 
sonalities have been playing a comedy of errors, which has 
been sometimes farcical and sometimes tragic. They run 

1 Written in 1904. 


on and off the stage in a way confusing to the observer, 
changing places from moment to moment, each personating 
the others in scenes to which she was but a moment before 
a stranger, j,nd_with the exception of Sally, having_no 
knovvledge of what has gone before. During these years 
the writer has kept copious notes, often made daily, of the 
life of Miss Beauchamp. The evidence given by all three 
personalities, as well as by the hypnotic selves, has been 
laboriously recorded. Every piece of evidence which 
would throw light upon, substantiate, or discredit any al- 
leged occurrence or mental phenomenon has been made 
use of. At all times, including intervals of enforced ab- 
sence, as in the summer vacations, a considerable corre- 
spondence with each personality has been kept up. Much 
of this has been made use of in the following account. 



MISS Beauchamp — I mean the one who first pre- 
sented herself for professional care in the spring of 
1898 (B I) — is extremely reticent and dislikes intensely 
any discussion of herself or her circumstances. She is 
even reticent in reference to her physical ailments, so 
much so that it is never easy to discover any temporary 
indisposition from vrhich she may be suffering. She dis- 
likes the publicity which her psychical trouble tends to 
draw upon her, and has sought jealously to guard her 
secret. Indeed, all three personalities have endeavored 
by every artifice to conceal the knowledge of their trouble 
from friends, and have done so with a success that is aston- 
ishing. It has been at the expense of being considered a 
strange, incomprehensible person, "unlike other people," 
as may well be the case when three persons have to act one 
rSle in life's comedy. The publication of this study has 
been consented to by Miss Beauchamp, as a personal favor, 
at the sacrifice of all her instinctive tastes and inclinations. 
The constant answer to my frequent remonstrance about 
her reticence is, "I have never been in the habit of talk- 
ing about my private affairs." All this is carried to the 
verge of morbidness, or to what more exactly might be 
termed ^^ fixed ideas.''^ I mention this merely as evidence 
of the absence of any desire for notoriety, or exaggeration. 
Nevertheless, I am acquainted with all the important de- 
tails of her past and present life. 

Besides the reticence in matters pertaining to herself, 
already mentioned, she is possessed of a conscientiousness 


which at times has proved embarrassing to her friends. 
It, too, is carried sometimes to a degree that may be char- 
acterized as morbid. For instance, while in college she 
was the recipient of a scholarship ; consequently she con- 
sidered it her duty, in return for this benefit, so diligently 
to apply herself to her studies that it was impossible for 
teacher or physician to enforce sufficient recreation, or 
even the rest and hygienic measures which were absolutely 
necessary to keep what little health she had. 
, Equally embarrassing from a therapeutic point of view 
i is a morbid pride which makes her unwilling to be the 
' recipient of favors or attention which she may not be 
able to repay. The other selves are not always so sensi- 
tive in this respect, and bitterly has Miss Beauchamp some- 
times suffered when she has come to herself to find that 
she has, as one of her other selves, accepted obligations 
distasteful to her own pride. 

A love of truth which is equally marked in her make- 
up, and which has been in constant conflict with the 
endeavor to conceal her mental troubles, has led to much 
mental perturbation. To be frank and open, and yet not 
to " give away " the fact that she has not the remotest 
idea, at moments when she comes to hereelf, of how she 
happens to be in a given situation, or what her interrogator 
is talking about, or even who he is, taxes her innate sense 
of truth, though it has developed a capacity for intellec- 
tual gymnastics and quick inference which is instructive. 
Her power in any one of the three characters of taking in 
a new situation, of jumping at correct inferences of what 
has gone before, of following leads without betraying her 
own ignorance, of formulating a reply which allows of an 
interpretation compatible with almost any set of condi- 
tions, — her ingenuity in these directions is surprising; 
and by showing what can be done by shrewd leads, guesses 
and deftly worded responses, gives one an inkling as to 



the possible origin of much of the supposed supernorm^ 
knowledge of mediums.- In the case of Miss Beauchamp 
this is, of course, compulsory from the necessity of adapt- 
ing her divided personality to the demands of social 

If Miss Beauchamp's eye should peruse this paper, per- 
haps she will overlook the personality of the statement 
that her refinement of character is out of the ordinary. I 
do not mean by this only the kind of refinement which 
comes from social education, but rather, that natural 
refinement of thought and feeling which is inborn, and 
which is largely made up of delicacy of sentiment and 
appreciation of everything that is fine in thought and per- 
ceptions. This refinement is not easy to analyze, though 
readily recognized, and would not be mentioned here, 
were it not the basis of other peculiarities of her character 
which are of practical moment. It is largely the sponsor 
for her conscientiousness and honesty, her power of attract- 
ing friends, and, unfortunately, probably in part for her 
neurasthenic condition. It has also been the cause of no 
end of trouble in the prosecution of this study, for it has 
led to her unwillingness to "inflict," as she calls it, her 
personal affairs on others, and to her reticence about her 
mental life. One could often wish she were less sensitive, 
and had a little of that mental and moral callousness which 
does not shrink from opening the mind to psychological, 

In ending this brief account of Miss Beauchamp's char- 
acter, I would add, she is well educated and has marked, 
literary tastes and faculties. She is essentially a biblio- 
phile, and is never so happy as when allowed to delve 
amongst books, to live with them and know them. 

The little that is known of her heredity from a neuro- 
pathic point of view is suggestive of nervous instability. 
Her grandfather on her father's side is said to have been a 



man of violent temper, and it would seem without balanced 
self-control. Her father apparently inherited the violent 
temper of her grandfather. He and her mother were 
unhappily married. 

The subject of tliis stui?ly,was a nervous, impressipnaljle 
/ child, given to, day-dreaming and living in her imagina- 
tion. Her mother exhibited a great dislike to her, and for 
no reason, apparently, excepting that the child resembled 
her father in looks. The general impression left on Miss 
Beauchamp's mind to-day is that of her presence having 
been ignored by her mother excepting on occasions of a 
reprimand. On the other hand, she herself idealized her 
mother, bestowing upon her almost morbid affection ; and 
believing that the fault was her own, and that her mother's 
lack of affection was due to her own imperfections, she 
gave herself up to introspection, and concluded that if she 
could only purify herself and make hereelf worthy, her 
\ mother's affection would be given her. The effect of all 
) this upon the child was to suppress all disclosures of her 
r own mental life, and to make her morbidly reticent. She 
never gave expression to the ordinary feelings of every- 
day child life ; never spoke to say that she was tired, hun- 
gry, or sleepy. She lived within herself and dreamed. 
I When she was thirteen her mother died. This was a 
I great shock to her mental system, and for a number of 
j weeks she was probably half delirious, or, as we would 
now interpret it, disintegrated. The three years follow- 
ing her mother's death, when she lived with her father, 
were a period of successive mental shocks, nervous strains 
and frights. The details of this unhappy period, al- 
though of great importance from a psychopathic point of 
view, unfortunately cannot be given, as, being well known 
to neighbors and friends, they would lead to the identifi- 
cation of the subject. It is unlikely that even a strong 
•v constitution would withstand the continuous nervous 


strain and depressing emotional influences to which her 
whole childhood was subjected. At sixteen she ran away 
from home, and thus ended this hystero-genetic period. 
At a later period anxieties of another kind succeeded those 
of her youth. 

In Miss Beauchamp's heredity and childhood, then, we 
find ample to account for the psychopathic soil which has 
permitted her present condition. She was never strong, as 
a child, became easily tired, and suffered from headaches 
and nightmares. Attacks of somnambulism also occurred. 
On one occasion when about fourteen years of age she 
walked out into the street at night in her nightgown and 
was brought home by a policeman. For yeai-s she was in 
the habit, from time to time, of going into spontaneous 
trance-like states, lasting a few minutes, and at the time 
when she first came under observation she was subject to 
these spells (as was subsequently learned), although they 
were not nearly so frequent or prolonged as formerly. 
For insiajcice,. one day, an attack came on while she was 
crossing, the Public Gardens. . At the moment she was 
headed for Park Square. When she came to herself she 
was walking in an opposite direction, in a different part of 
the Gardens. 

As a child, then, the subject of our study was morbidly 
impressionable, given to day-dreaming and unduly under 
the influence of her emotions. She took everything in- 
tensely, lived in a land of idealism, and saw the people and 
the world about her not as they were but as they were 
colored by her imagination. That is to say, she saw people 
through her own ideas, which dominated her judgment, and 
which tended to be insistent. Even as a child she appeared 
to have hallucinations, or at any rate so mixed up her day- 
dreams and imaginings with reality that she did not have 
a true conception of her environment. 

Such a person, under the unhappy circumstances of her 


girlhood, surely never had half a chance. Her very differ- 
ences from the conventional person stamped her an " origi- 
nal," and attracted other people to her. Intellectually 
she was keen, fond of books and study. The knowledge 
that she thus acquired being colored by the wealth of her 
imagination gave an attraction to her personality. 

About 1893 she had a nervous shock which, unfortu- 
nately, only came to my knowledge long after I became 
acquainted with the fact of there being a division of per- 
sonalities; unfortunately, for it played the principal role 
in the development of these phenomena. It will be 
described in its proper place. 

When Miss Beauchamp first came under my professional 
care, in 1898, she was, as has been said, a student in one 
of our New England colleges ; she was twenty-three yeara 
of age and a " neurasthenic " of an extreme type. The 
most salient features of her physical condition were heady 
aches, insomnia, bodily pains, persistent fatigue, and poor 
nutrition. All this unfitted her for any work, mental or 
physical, and even for the amount of exercise that ordinary 
rules of hygiene required; but in spite of her disability 
nothing could dissuade her from diligent and, in fact, 
excessive study which she thought it her duty to persist 
in. My notes taken at this time, before it was known that 
there was any division of personalities, thus describe her 
general condition: 

" Is a pronounced neurasthenic of extreme type; has never 
been able to pursue steadily any occupation in consequence. 
Tried three times to do professional nursing and broke down. 

Is now studying at College ; ambitious ; good student ; 

does good work, but always ill ; always suffering. Over-con- 
scientious and mentally and morally stubborn. Is very ner- 
vous, and different parts of body in constant motion. General 
appearance of an hysteric ; cannot sit still, cannot fix her eyes 
to properly test field of vision ; probably slight visual limita- 


tion, but this is difficult to determine. No objective anesthesia^ 
or other physical stigmata. " 

At this time Miss Beauchamp was very suggestible and 
plainly manifested aboulia, although this was mistaken by 
her friends and at first by myself, to speak plainly, for 
stubbornness (which was one of her traits), or at least 
an unwillingness to be guided by the advice of friends 
when this conflicted with her prejudices. ^Y abouUa .is, 
meant an inhibition of will by which a person is unable 
to do what he actually wishes to do.^ There was also a 
decided limitation of the field of consciousness, in the 
sense that her mind at certain moments was strongly ab- 
sorbed in and dominated by certain particular ide¥s. She 
was unable to correct her judgments by constant reference 
to and comparison with collateral facts, which is always 
necessary for wise conduct. In other words, she tended 
to be lost in abstraction. These are recognized psychical 
stigmata of hysteria. 

It was sa id in the beginning that, in addition to her 
normal self, and the hypnotic state known as B II, Mis^ 
JBgailchamp JQiay be any one of three different pereons, who 
are known respectively as B I, B III, and B IV. These 
numbers were originally given at an early period of the 
study, before the mental states were identified, and when 
it was desirable that terms should be used \Vhich were not 
a committal to any hypothesis. The numbers were affixed 
to the personalities as they were chronologically discov- 
ered. That is to say, when Miss Beauchamp first came 
under observation she was known of course by her own 

1 In typical and extreme cases, for instance, a person with abonlia may 
find it impossible to pick up somethipg from the table, or to rise from the 
chair, though strongly desiring to do so. In Miss Beaucliamp's case I have 
often known her to come to my office for the express purpose of telling some- 
thing important, but after struggling a few minutes with attempts to speak, 
to utter the words necessary, and finding herself unable, she would give it up 
and leave without accomplishing or even explaining her errand. 


name. Later, when she was hypnotized, her mental state 
in hypnosis was known as the hypnotic self. Eveiything 
was then simple enough, for we had to do only with a 
person awake and hypnotized, and no extended nomencla- 
ture was required. Later, when another mental state was 
discovered, it became necessary to have distinguishing 
terms ; so Miss Beauchamp was called B I, the hypnotic 
state B II, and the third state (at first thought to be a 
second hypnotic state, but later proved to be a personality) 
was named B III. Still later, "a fourth state developed 
and was termed B IV. 

B I was known as Miss Beauchamp. 

B III was known as "Chris," in distinction from 
"Christine," the Christian name of Miss Beauchamp.' 
Later, Chris took the name of Sally. 

B IV had no other name, although Sally dubbed her 
"the Idiot." 

Now these three personalities had very sharply defined 
traits which gave a very distinctive individuality to each. 
One might say that each represented certain characteristic 
elements of human nature, and that the three might serve 
as an allegorical picture of the tendencies of man. If 
this were not a serious psychological stud}', I might feel 
tempted to entitle this volume " The Saint, The Woman, 
and The Devil. " The ..Salat, the typical saint of litera- 
ture, is B I . Her character may fairly be said without 
exaggeration to personify those traits which expounders of 
various religions, whether Christian, Buddhist, Shinto, or 
Confucian, have held up as the ideals to be attained by 
human nature. To her mind selfishness, impatience, rude- 
ness, uncharitableness, a failure to tell the truth or a sup- 
pression of half the truth were literally sins, and their 
manifestation wickedness, to be cast out by fasting, vigils, 
and prayer. She frequently makes allusion to such sins 
in her letters. B_iy, is the Woman, personifying the 


frailties of temper, self-concentratiou, ambition., and, gej |- 
intereat,__which ordinarily are the dominating factors of 
the average human being. Her idea in life is to accom- 
plish her own ends, regardless of the consequences to 
others, and of the means employed. S al l y is the Devil, 
not an immoral devil, to be sure, but rather a mischievous 
imgj one of that kind which we might imagine would take 
pleasure in thwarting the aspirations of humanity. To 
her pranks were largely due the moral suffering which 
B I endured, the social difficulties which befell B IV, 
and the trials and tribulations which were the lot of 

Not the least interesting of the curious nervous phe- 
nomena manifested, are the different degrees of health 
enjoyed by the different personalities. One would imagine 
that if ill health were always based on physical alterations, 
each personality must have the same ailments ; but such is 
not the case. The person known as B I has the poorest 
hea lth ; B IV is more robust, and is capable of mental 
and physical exertion without ill effects, which would be / 
beyond the powei-s of B I; while .BJ[IIJsja^ton^ej;to_g,P^ 
ache or pain. She does not know what illness means. ' | 

This personality, Sally, like the others, at times is an 
alternating personality. But, besides this, at other times 
it is a group of dissociated conscious states, which, exist- 
ing simultaneously with the primary self, whether B I or 
B IV, is technically termed a subconsciousness, — a sub- 
conscious personality. This subconscious personality and 
the waking personality together represent a doubling of 
the mind. But this doubling exists because certain mental 
states have been dissociated from the main stream of con- 
sciousness and have acquired a more or less independent 
existence, and formed an extra mind. As a result of long 
years of experience, the acquisition of long chains of 
memories, this second stream has acquired a wide field of 




mental life. Nothing of this life is known to the main 
personal stream of consciousness. 

The theory of a subconscious self will be discussed in 
another volume, and it would be premature to enter into 
the question here. I merely wish to point out in a general 
way that by a subconscious self I mean simply a limited 
second, coexisting, extra series of "thoughts," feelings, 
sensations, etc., which are (largely) differentiated from 
those of the normal waking mind of the individual. In 
abnormal conditions these secondary " thoughts " may be 
sufficiently organized to have a perception of personality, 
in which case they may be regarded as constituting a 
second self. Such a second self is not known to the wak- 
ing self, which is not even conscious of its existence (ex- 
cepting of course by inference from acts). B III was such 
a subconscious self . Whether such a self, or any of the 
elemental states which comprise such a self belongs to nor- 
mal minds, or occurs only under abnormal conditions, is a 
secondary question that will be discussed in its proper 
place. But the question of what part subconscious states 
play in normal minds is one of the most pressing problems 
of psychology. However that may be answered, repeated 
observations of recent years by different students of these 
phenomena have shown that in unstable natures the mind 
may be disintegrated in such a way as to produce a doub- 
ling or rather a multiplication of consciousness and to form 
two, three, or more groups of subconscious states, which at 
times are capable of considerable independent activity. At 
times when excited they are capable of being stirred into 
fury, when they burst forth like a volcano, fermenting and 
boiling, in "crises" of a pathological character. Such 
were the so-called "demoniac possessions" of the middle 
ages, and such are the hysterical crises of modern medicine. 
[Appendix A.] 

In this account I shall describe with great detail the' 


genesis of the different personalities and the conditions 
under which they originated, in order that the entire free- 
dom from educational and artificial influences, such as 
might be suspected to have shaped their characters and 
memories, may be evident and put beyond question. 



IN April, 1898, inasmuch as Miss Beauchamp had failed 
to be improved by the conventional methods of treat- 
ment, and as it was impossible for her to pursue any 
vocation in the condition of health in which she was at 
the time, it was decided to try hypnotic suggestion. I 
have no intention of going into this aspect of the case, but 
I transcribe a few of the notes made at the time, as they 
show the extreme suggestibility of the subject, and make 
clear the beneficial effects which were obtained by this 
mode of treatment By suggestion it was found possible 
to convert a condition of constant physical distress into 
one of at least temporary comfort. If this means proved 
ineffectual to remove the existing instability of the ner- 
vous system, which constantly allowed painful reactions 
to the environment, it was partly because of a primary 
faulty organization, but more particularly because of the 
condition of psychological disintegration which had al- 
ready taken place, but which was unsuspected. There 
was no reason to suppose that the first Miss Beauchamp 
was psychologically other than she appeared to be, a whole 
person, so to speak. It was only after a prolonged study, 
which justified itself scientifically, that the secret leaked 
out. It then became clear that a permanent cure could 
come about only as a result of a synthesis of the jjisinte- 
grated elements of personality . Yet it was something to 
banish pain whenever it arose. 

Miss Beauchamp was hypnotized for the first time April 
6th. She went at once into deep hypnosis, followed by 


amnesia (total loss of memory) for the period when she 
was in hypnosis. This was repeated on the 6th, 7th, and 
8th, appropriate suggestions being given each time, and 
was always followed by immediate relief. From notebook : 

April 8th. " Reports slept soundly all night without waking; 
ravenously hungry at meals ; has felt well ; little or no fatigue ; 
pain returned in the side, while in church, and lasted for an 
hour ; it was very severe, but suddenly ceased ; no pain in the 
morning on awaking, but has now some headache and back- 
ache. Her friends comment on her great improvement in 
health, and she herself is astonished. In hypnosis patient said 
that pain in side was caused by sermon, which made her think 
how wicked she was (etc.). No pain from walking." 

Api'il 9th. "Reports herself remarkably well; has walked 
about all day — out and about since 9 a. m. ; no pain in side, 
no headache or backache ; slept well ; quiet ; thinks she is not 
nervous ; feels like a different person ; remarks that she ' can't 
understand it,' etc., etc.; eats well. Patient appears like a 
different person: that is, is much better." 

April 25th. " General improvement since April 9th. Is be- 
coming stronger ; occasional pain in side, but not nearly so 
severe, occasionally brought on by walking, sometimes by 
being bothered ; feels stronger and better than for years ; has 
been walking about two miles a day, formerly not more than 
two or three blocks ; can walk a mile at a stretch without feel- 
ing more than reasonably tired; no headache to speak of up to 

It has always been easy to remove from time to time 
the varying bodily discomforts as they appeared, although 
this improvement was not lasting. These somatic symptoms 
have a psychological interest in this case, for it has been 
easy to demonstrate that they are not based on underlying 
structural changes, but are by-products, so to speak, of 
emotional states, or fatigue, and in part "association phe- 



nomena," which are dragged into the field of consciousness 
by the psychical states to which they are attached. 

Particular emotional states, like fear or anxiety, or 
general mental distress, have the tendency to disintegrate 
the mental organization in such a way that the normal 
associations become severed or loosened. Thus it happens 
that a mental shock like that of an accident, or an alarm- 
ing piece of news, produces a dissociation of the mind, 
known as a state of hysteria or " traumatic neurosis." 
Such states are characterized by persisting loss of sensa- 
tion, paralysis, amnesia, and other so-called stigmata, which 
are now recognized to be manifestations of the dissociation 
of sensory, motor, and other images from the main stream of 
consciousness. A doubling of consciousness is thus brought 
about. The dissociated images may still be capable of 
functioning, more or less independently of the waking 
consciousness; and when they do, so-called automatic 
phenomena (hallucinations, tics, spasms, contractures, etc.) 
result. Sometimes the mental dissociation produces a 
complete loss of memory (amnesia) for long periods of the 
subject's life ; when this is the case we have the funda- 
mental basis for alternating personalities, of which this 
study will offer many examples. In other instances, the 
disintegration induced by the emotion results less in 
sharply defined somatic disturbances than in a general 
loosening of the mental and nervous organization. A 
general neurasthenic condition then results, revealed by 
all sorts of perverted reactions to the environment in 
the form of pains, fatigue, vasomotor disturbances, etc. 
Finally, when the neurasthenic systems have been re- 
peatedly awakened by an emotion, they form a habit, or 
what I have termed an " association neurosis." ^ It then 
comes about that (in subjects of nervous instability) when, 
through the vicissitudes of life, distressing emotions are 

1 Association Neuroses; Journ.of Nervous and Mental Disease, May, 1891. 


awakened, the somatic symptoms, as a kind of tail to a 
mental kite, are brought into the field of consciousness. 
Fatigue and mental strain have the same genetic influence 
as emotion. 

The whole history of the Beauchamp " family " has been 
like that of a person who has been exposed to an almost 
daily series of railroad accidents or nervous shocks. Owing 
primarily to a natural, and secondarily to a still greater 
acquired, instability of nervous organization, the contre- 
temps of ordinary life have acted like a series of mild 
shocks, resulting in little traumatic neuroses.^ The im- 
mediate effects have been removed from time to time by 
suggestion ; but the original fundamental instability, mag- 
nified a hundred-fold by the psychological disintegration 
which was brought about by a mental accident of recent 
date, has made possible a frequent repetition of such shocks. 
Most instructive is the fact that with the complete synthesis 
of all the personalities into one, with the reintegration of 
the shattered mental organization, stability becomes re- 
established and the physical health becomes normal. With 
this statement the therapeutic aspect of the case will be 
dismissed for the present from further discussion.^ ^ 

Miss Beauchamp has already been described as a very 
reserved person. She never drops into familiarity of 
speech, nor does she invite it. Her personality is one that 
cannot be provoked into rudeness ; rather her tendency is 
to bear in silence what othei-s might resent. If any one has 
done ill to her she bears it in resignation, without idea of 
retaliation by word or deed. Personal dignity, a predom- 
inant characteristic, never lets her descend into the vul- 
garisms which oi-dinary, though refined, people may be 
pardoned for falling into under the stress of petty annoy- 

1 Disturbances of the nervous system caused by accidents. 

2 In Part III, Vol. II, the neurasthenic state, inclnding the relation of 
changes in physical health to psychic states will be considered. 


ances. This I mention here, that the differing characteris- 
tics of the separate personalities, as the latter are devel- 
oped, may be appreciated. With me and with those who 
know her trouble, she has a depressed, rather weary, ex- 
pression and manner. Her voice, too, is strongly indica- 
tive of this frame of mind; but I am told that with 
strangers who know nothing of her infirmity she is more 
buoyant and light-hearted. 

It is not easy to describe satisfactorily this Miss Beau- 
champ in hypnosis ; at least in such a way as to give one 
who is not familiar with hypnosis an intelligible under- 
standing of her in this state. In essential characteristics 
she 1 is not very different from hei"self awake, except as 
any one in hypnosis differs from the waking self. If I 
said that she is herself intensified, but without the artifi- 
cial reserve with which she ordinarily surrounds herself as 
a protection to her life, it would give the best idea of her. 
In manner, her air of sadness and weariness is accentuated, 
and her tastes and desires are the same ; but she does not 
hesitate to give freely information which it is essential for 
her well-being should be known, and to ask for aid that 
will protect her even from herself. In the waking state, 
as Miss Beauchamp, she desires to give the same informa- 
tion and she often longs to make the same request, but is 
as often held back by that intense shrinking from talking 
about herself which has already been mentioned. So pro- 
hibitive has been this reserve that it has been difficult to 
obtain from her while awake, as B I, a reasonable amount 
of information regarding her infirmity. This amounts at 
times to an actual aboulia. I doubt if the hypnotic self 
could be made to do what she in her waking state would 
morally object to. Perhaps it is not too far-fetched to say, 
metaphorically, that t he hypnotic self is the soul of Miss 

I This state, being B I hypnotized, was later rechristened B la, and the 
term B II waa given to another state with quite different characteristics. 


Beauchamp freed from the artificial restraints of conven- 

The hypnotic self, then, let it be borne in mind, is dis- 
tinctly the same personality as Miss Beauchamp awake. 
She speaks of herself as the same person, making no dis- 
tinction whatsoever, except that she is now " asleep," or 
what " you call asleep." On the other hand, when awake, 
as already stated in the introduction, she has no knowledge 
or remembrance of herself in the hypnotic state. On 
awaking there is complete oblivion of everything said and 
done in hypnosis. There is also a large degree of passive- 
ness in the hypnotic self. She sits with her eyes closed 
(never having been allowed to open them), and though she 
converses, and even sometimes argues and defends her 
own views, she tends to passiveness, like most subjects in 

Up to this time the only personality with which I was 
acquainted, and the only one known to her friends, was 
the Miss Beauchamp whom I have just described as B I. But 
there now appeared upon the scene a new character, who 
was destined to play the leading role in the family drama 
that was enacted during a period of six years. This char- 
acter at first appeared to be a second hypnotic state, but 
later proved a veritable personality, with an individuality 
that was fascinatingly interesting to watch ; she largely 
determined the dramatic situations, and consequently the 
health, happiness, and fortunes of Miss Beauchamp. She 
became known successively as B III, Chris, and finally as 
SaUy, according as acquaintance with her grew. The way 
this character first made herself known I shall let a r^sum^ 
of my notes, which were made at the time, tell. 

One day in April, 1898, while in hypnosis. Miss Beau- 
champ surprised me by denying having made certain 
statements which she made during the previous state of 
hypnosis, and then again later when hypnotized, admitting 


freely, without reserve, what she had previously denied. 
She thus alternately denied and admitted the same facts. 
The statements themselves were not matters of impor- 
tance, but the denials of her own plain statements were 
puzzKng. Being on my guard, my first suspicion of 
course was of an attempt at deception, but on a repetition 
of this experience her honesty became plainly beyond 
question. The solution was not long in coming. On one 
of the following occasions I was startled to hear her, when 
hypnotized, speak of herself in her waking state as " She." 
Previously, as already stated, she had always used the first 
person, " I," indifferently for herself, whether awake or 
asleep in hypnosis. She had never made any distinction 
whatever as to personalities, or suggested any difference 
between herself while awake and while in hypnosis ; nor 
had I made any such suggestions, or even thought of the 
matter. I had regarded the hypnotic self simply as Miss 
Beauchamp asleep. But now the hypnotic self, for the 
first time, used the pronoun " She," in speaking of her 
waking self, as if of a third person ; but used " I," of her- 
self in hypnosis. The tone, address, and manner were also 
very different from what they had been. As bearing on 
the question of the possible unconscious education of the 
subject on the part of the experimenter, I may say here 
that my experience of this case entirely contradicted the 
view that I had held up to this time. i^^My conviction had 
been growing that so-called personalities, when developed 
through hypnotism^ as distinct from the spontaneous va- 
riety, were purely artificial creations, — sort of unspoken 
and unconscious mutual understandings between the ex- 
perimenter and the subject, by which the subject accepted 
certain ideas unwittingly suggested by the experimenter. 
But in opposition to this view the personality known as 
B III, or Chris, which first made its appearance during hyp- 
nosis, came as a surprise to me ; and so far from being the 


product of suggestion, originated and persisted against my 
protests and in spite of my scepticism. \ In view, there- 
fore, of my own lack of preparedness, this complete change 
of attitude of the hypnotic self is noteworthy. I hastened 
to follow up the lead offered and asked, as if in ignorance 
of her meaning, who " She " was. The hypnotic self was 
unable to give a satisfactory reply. 

" You are ' She,' " I said. 

" No, I am not." 

" I say you are." 

Again a denial. 

Feeling at the time that this distinction was artificial, and 
that the hypnotic self was making it for a purpose, I made 
up my mind that such an artifact should not be allowed to 
develop. I pursued her relentlessly in my numerous ex- 
aminations, treated the idea as nonsense, and refused to 
accept it, but with what success will be noted. 

Finally : 

" Why are you not « She ' ? " 

"Because 'She' does not know the same things that I 

" But you both have the same arms and legs, have n't 


" Yes, but arms and legs do not make us the same." f I 

"Well, if you are different persons, what are your 



Here she was puzzled, for she evidently saw that, accord- 
ing to her notion, if the hypnotic self that was talking with 
me was Miss Beauchamp, the waking self was not Miss 
Beauchamp, and vice versa. She appeared to be between 
the horns of a dilemma, was evasive, unable to answer, and 
made every effort not to commit herself. On another occa- 
sion, in answer to the question why she (the apparently 
hypnotic state) insisted that Miss Beauchamp in her wak- 
ing state was a different peraon from herself at that mo- 


ment, the contemptuous reply was : " Because she is stupid ; 
she goes round mooning, half asleep, with her head buried 
in a book ; she does not know half the time wliat she is 
about. She does not know how to take care of herself." 
The contemptuous tone in which she spoke of Miss Beau- 
champ (awake) was striking, and her whole manner was 
very different from what it formerly had been when hypno- 
tized. The weary, resigned, attitude was gone ; she was 
bold, self-assertive, unwilling to accept suggestions, and 
anything but passive. A few days after this, when hyp- 
notized, sill became changed again ; tlie former hypnotic 
manner returned. 

" Who are you ? " I asked. 

" I am Miss Beauchamp." 

Then, after a number of questions on another point : 

" Listen : now you say you are Miss Beauchamp." 


" Then why did you say you were not Miss Beauchamp ? " 

[Surprised.] " Why, I never said so." 

" The last time we talked you said you were not Miss 

" You are mistaken. I did not. I said nothing of the 

" Yes, you did." 

" No." 

" Well, you know who you are ? " 

"Yes, Miss Beauchamp." 

" Exactly. You have got over that idea of being differ- 
ent from other peraons, — that there is a ' She ' ? " 

[Surprised and puzzled.] " What * she ' ? I do not know 
what you mean." 

" Yes, you do." 

"No, unless you mean Rider Haggard's 'She.'" 

" You used to tell me that you were not Miss Beauchamp." 


« I did not." 

"That when you were awake you were a different 

[Remonstrating and astounded.] " Dr. Prince, I did not 
say so." 

" What did you say ? " 

" I did not say anything. I told you about my back 
and shoulders." [Referring to an experiment tried to 
produce a blister by a suggestion given to the hypnotic 

Repeated experiences of this kind made it plain that Miss 
Beauchamp when hypnotized fell into one or the other of 
two distinct mental states, or selves, whose relations to the 
primary waking consciousness, as well as their memories, 
were strikingly different. From the very first they claimed 
different relations with the waking Miss Beauchamp. The 
first hypnotic self either definitely sfcited she was Miss 
Beauchamp asleep, or accepted that idea, as a technical 
expression, without objection ; though she apparently rec- 
ognized the paradox conveyed in the idea of a sleeping 
person talking. Still she regarded herself most distinctly 
as Miss Beauchamp, though not awake. For the sake of 
convenience at this early stage, to distinguish the different 
selves, this hypnotic self was noted as B II, in distinction 
from the waking Miss Beauchamp, who was now labelled 
for the first time B I. In contrast with this attitude of 
B II, the second hypnotic self, who was correspondingly 
named B III, refused from the very first to accept the idea 
of being asleep or being Miss Beauchamp asleep. She in- 
sisted she was wide awake, and resented in a way foreign 
to either B I or B II every attempt on my part to make 
her appear illogical in claiming to be a different person. 

It may be well to repeat that B I's name was Christine. 
Desiring to have some distinctive term of address for B 
III, I gave her the name of Chris. Later, of her own 


volition, she adopted the name Sally Beauchamp, taking it, 
I think, from a character in some book. 

The following notes of the interview of Apiil 30 make 
evident the distinction between the hj'pnotic states : 

April SO. " Patient has not been here since April 25th, 
when Miss Beauehamp had apparently lost her second per- 
sonality ; that is to say, she did not know in hypnosis who 
' She ' was, and denied all knowledge as claimed by B III of 
any other person than hei'self, and had no recollection of her 
previous statement as B III. It appeared as if the second 
phase of hypnosis had disappeared. To-day patient returned, 
stating that she has been unable to come before because of ill- 
ness ; has had a return of old symptoms, etc. Remarks that 
she has been unable to read or fix her mind on a book. To- 
day is much better. Thinks the cause of her relapse was 
catching cold, and possibly the effect of the sermon the pre- 
vious Sunday. [This sermon had been the subject of consider- 
able discussion between B II and myself at the previous visit.] 
Miss Beauehamp is now hypnotized and becomes, as at the last 
sitting, B II, the first hypnotic self. She makes the same 
statement as to the cause of her relapse as did B I. In re- 
sponse to inquiries she goes on to state that her name is/ Miss 
Beauehamp.' [Her manner at this early stage used to indicate 
great surprise that I should ask her name, as if both of us did 
not know.] She does not know anything about any other per- 
son, and expresses some annoyance at being told that she^ has 
stated that there is another. (This talk about a ' she ' evi- 
dently troubles her, as it did at the last interview, and is some- 
thing she cannot understand. I take pains not to explain 
anything, only asking her such questions as will test her mem- 
ory, leaving her in the dark as to the meaning of the questions 
and the existence of the other hypnotic self.) [Both B I and 
B II were kept in ignorance of B III for a long time.] 

" Patient now, without being first waked up, is more deeply 
hypnotized by command. She goes into an apparently deeper 
trance. At once her whole manner changes. She begins to 

1 Tliat 18, in testing her memory (or what had been said by B IIL 


stutter, and again speaks of herself as being a different person 
from Miss Beauehamp, whom as before she refers to as ' She ' 
and ' Her.' Explains that the cause of her illness was partly 
the effect of the sermon (referred to by B I), and partly due 
to the fact that ' the person in black ' (my secretary, who was 
taking stenographic notes) was in the room, and partly to the 
fact that I had bothered ' Her ' (i. e. , B II) at the previous sit- 
ting by troubling ' Her ' with all sorts of questions which ' She ' 
did not understand.^ B II, she asserts, does not know anything 
of the present person talking, and when I kept asking ' Her ' 
questions concerning things ' She ' did not know anything about, 
it upset ' Her' very much. It also troubled ' Her' (i. e., B I) 
having in the room some one to whom ' She ' was afraid ' She ' 
would expose ' Her ' thoughts, having been told by me that 
' She ' talked in hypnosis. All these things conspu-ed to upset 
' Her ; ' hence ' Her ' illness of the past week." 

It should be noticed that in this explanation the third 
self also did not make any distinction between Miss Beau- 
champ and B II ; but spoke of Miss Beauehamp as being 
upset by my questions, although the disturbing questions 
had been put to Miss Beauehamp in hypnosis. Yet, again, 
it was when awake that she dreaded being hypnotized with 
a stranger in the room. More important is the fact that 
B III showed a complete knowledge of all that was said to 
B II, — in fact, knew all about B II. She showed an inti- 
mate knowledge of the conversation in which B II was 
accused by me of having made the claim that she was a 
distinct person from "She," and she professed at least a 
knowledge of her inmost thoughts and feelings. And so it 
was at every interview. 

As a test of the memories of B II and B III, I was in 
the habit at each interview of asking each to repeat certain 
parts of a previous conversation, and to describe what had 
occurred during the earlier part of the interview, or during 
the previous interview, including insignificant details of 
1 That is, as if B II and B III were one and the same person. 


my actions, etc. Miss Beauchamp never had any memory 
of what happened while she was Chris, any more than while 
she was B II. That was plain enough. Miss Beauchamp 
knew nothing of the other two. The hypnotic self, B II, 
on the other hand, remembered everything that she, B II, 
said during the preceding times when she had been in 
existence, and also everything about Miss Beauchamp's 
life. She would give at each visit an accurate account 
of everything that happened when Miss Beauchamp was 
awake, whether in my presence or at her own home. She 
would repeat my convereation mth Miss Beauchamp, what 
I did when Miss Beauchamp was in the room, and so on, 
ad infinitum. She was plainly the "hypnotic self." But 
she was in entire ignorance of the new self, Chris (B III). 
She always denied any knowledge of what she had said in 
this new state, nor could I ever trip her up, though I set 
many traps. For instance, at the close of the last inter- 
view, just referred to, the new hypnotic self, Chris, volun- 
teered to give some information on a matter connected with 
Miss Beauchamp's affaire, but did not complete it. This 
was the last thing that she said before Miss Beauchamp 
was awakened. At the next interview I qiljestioned B II 
as to what it was she was going to tell me, as if it were 
she and not the new self, Chris, with whom I had been 

" Do you remember the last thing 5'^ou said yesterday ? 
You were going to tell me something." 

" Going to tell you something ? No, I was not." 

*' Yes, you were." 

" No, I am sure. I do not remember anything." 

Later in the couree of this same interview Chris was 
obtained. The same questions were put to her. 

" Yesterday you were going to tell me something. What 
was it?" 

Chris at once showed complete knowledge of the conver- 


sation and continued what she had begun at the interview 
in question. Thus it was shown that B II could give ver- 
batim my conversation with herself and with B I, but 
nothing of that with B III. But B III could repeat 
that with all three selves ; and so it was correspondingly 
with what was done at those times. So B III knew both 
B I and B II, although B I and B II knew nothing of 

This relationship may be expressed by the following 
diagram, the arrow indicating the direction of knowledge : 

^ B I (a personality) 
Chris, B III ^ I 

(a personaUty) -~* 3 n (^^ter known as B la, a hypnotic 


Of course Chris's memory was continuous for the times 
of her own previous existence ; that is, for the times when. 
Miss Beauchamp having been put to sleep, Chris was 
present as an alternating personality. As to her knowl- 
edge of Miss Beauchamp, besides her familiarity with out- 
ward circumstances, she could describe the latter's inmost 
thoughts and feelings, her moods and her emotions, as after- 
waids was verified over and over again. The marked in- 
dividuality of Chiis's character, her insistence upon herself 
being a separate personality, the wideness of her knowl- 
edge, and various other even more important peculiarities 
which later became known made her an interesting study. 
Although she first disclosed her existence through the 
hypnotizing process, she proved to be no ordinary hypnotic 
self, but a veritable personality which also exhibited itself 
at times as an organized subconsciousness. 

One of the most interesting features when the change to 
Chris took place was the sudden alteration of character, 
which was almost dramatic. It was amazing to see the 


sad, anxious, passive B II suddenly become transformed 
into a new personality, stuttering abominably, and exhibit- 
ing a lively vivacity, boldness, and saucy deviltry, difficult 
to describe. 

No longer sad, but gay and reckless, she resented any 
attempt to control her. For example : therapeutic sugges- 
tions given to B II were accepted with docility, but when 
they were tried on this new hj-pnotic self they were met 
at once by opposition. " You th-th-think you c-c-c-can 
c-c-control me," she stuttered, " b-b-because you c-c-control 
' her.' You c-c-can't d-d-do it. I shall d-d-do as I p-p- 
please," etc., etc.^ 

Finding that this tack would not work, another was tried. 

" I want your co-operation to help me get Miss Beau- 
champ well. Will you help me? " 

" Now that is a different kind of talk," she replied, molli- 
fied, though still stuttering. 

Rebelliousness and above all sauciness like this was 
something entirely foreign to Miss Beauchamp's character. 
It was clear that there were three different selves, or at 
least three different mental states. 

Some idea of the memories and characteristics of the 
different selves may be had from the following exti-act from 
the notes of the next interview, May 1. It was not easy 
to exactly transcribe the language, and above all to repre- 
sent the tone and mannerism of each. It was found that 
the presence of a stranger in the room was so disturbing 
to Miss Beauchamp, who naturally feared lest she should 
betray her private affairs, that it was necessary to give up 
the plan of taking stenographic notes. The difficulty of 

^ Chris, when she first appeared on the scene, stuttered badly. Later this 
difficulty disappeared, but in tlie early days of her career it was obtrusivrf 
Sometimes she would remain silent on account of it, especially at the first 
moment of her appearance. She also used to keep her arms and hands in 
motion in a nervous way. It was as if she had not yet learned to co-ordinate 
her newly acquired muscles, and had general ataxia in consequence. This 
too disappeared later. 


taking down verbatim, in longhand, a rapidly held conver- 
sation necessarily obliged a condensation of sentences, so 
that the style is not fairly represented in these notes, but 
the accuracy of the facts as brought out may be insisted 
upon. On May 1, the ground of April 30th was gone over 
again as follows : 

After hearing the report from Miss Beauchamp and 
questioning her on various matters, she was hypnotized, 
becoming pLainly B II. 

Q. " How has Miss Beauchamp been doing ? " 

A. [Changing the question to the first person.] " How 
have I been doing ? I have been doing very well ? " 

Q. " How has ' she ' been doing ? " 

A. "'She'? Who?" . 

Q. " Don't you know who ' she ' is ? " 

A. " You did not say." 

Q. " Don't you know ? " 

A. "Do you mean Miss K. ? No, I do not know whom 
you mean." 

B II kept rubbing her eyes. She would not recognize 
the existence of any other personality than herself, nor 
could I get her to betray any knowledge of having, as 
Chris, referred to a " she." 

Q. " Have you been going to sleep this past week during 
the daytime?" [Referring to spontaneous trances that 
had occurred.] 

A. "No." 

Q. " Are you sure ? " 

A. "Yes." 

Q. " Have you been reading ? " 

A. "No." 

Q. "Why?" 

A. " I can't." 

Q. " Why can't you ? Have you been trying ? " 

A. "Yes." 


Q. " What prevents you ? " 

A. "Nothing." 

Q. " Do you mean you can't fix your mind ? " [As al- 
ready stated by her when awake as Miss Beauchamp at 
the interview of the previous day : page 30.] 

A. " Yes, that is what I mean. I can't read — can't fix 
my mind at all." 

Q. " What happens ? " 

A. " I begin thinking of all sorts of things the minute 
I try to read. Sometimes I throw the book down on a 
chair or table. I throw it down hard and closed after try- 
ing to read." [Illustrates at my request] 

Q. " Have you ever been so before this past week ? " 

A. " No, never." 

When pressed for an explanation of her unusual action 
her answer was characteristic of subjects exhibiting phe- 
nomena which they cannot explain : " People do not 
always have a reason for everything they do." This ap- 
parently simple action had more significance than would 
appear on the surface. Though not open to absolute proof, 
it is morally certain that it was an example of a suggested 
post-hypnotic phenomenon and the prelude to many similar 
exhibitions which I actually observed. For the benefit of 
the uninitiated it may be explained that in suitable sub- 
jects if a suggestion is given in hypnosis that a certain 
action be performed later after waking, the subject 
will, at the appointed time, carry out the suggested 
idea ; or perhaps more correctly, the suggested idea will 
complete itself without the subject knowing why he does 
the action, which sometimes is performed in an absent- 
minded way without his even knowing he has done it. 
Sometimes the subject enters a semi-hypnotic sUite at the 
moment of carrying out the command.^ 

1 The following is an amusing example of this well known phenomenon. I 
told a subject, Mrs. K., in hypuosis, to put ou her bonnet ami wear it during 


When Miss Beauchamp, as she and B II reported, 
found herself unable to read and threw down the book, 
she carried out a command that I had given for therapeu- 
tic purposes to Chris, unknown to the other selves. I had 
told Chris, rather carelessly, that she was to prevent Miss 
B. from reading, without suggesting how the thing was to 
be accomplished. Chris, who later explained the phenom- 
enon at length, claimed to have been the author of this 
automatic action on Miss B.'s part, and to have taken 
this drastic method of carrying out my suggestion, thereby 
showing considerable subconscious independence, and, I 
think, logical reasoning. It is worth noting how sharply 
differentiated were the volitions of the two personalities at 
this early date. Later, I personally witnessed similar phe- 
nomena on numerous occasions. It may be here stated 
that though often, for the purposes of a continuous narra- 
tive, phenomena are noted as having occurred, on the 
strength of the statements of the subject, these, when im- 
portant, were accepted only after searching inquiry ; and 
secondly, examples of every phenomenon described have 
been personally witnessed, at one time or another, over and 
over again. 

To resume : B II [hearing the scratching of my pencil 
taking notes]. " What are you doing ? " 

dinner the next day. She had no recollection on awaking of the command. 
Mrs. R. thus described what occurred : " As I was going in to dinner, my 
girl asked me what I was going out for. * I am not,' says I ; 'I am going to 
eat my dinner.' ' Then what have you got your hat on for,' says she. I put 
my hand to ray head and there was my bonnet. ' Lord, Mamie,' says I, ' am I 
going crazy? ' ' No, mother,' she says, ' you often do foolish things.' I began 
to get frightened, but took off my bonnet and went into the next room to din- 
ner." There the younger child similarly asked her where she was going, 
and called attention to her having her bonnet on. She again took it off ; 
later when her husband entered, the same thing was repeated ; but when she 
found her bonnet on her head for the third time she made an excuse of the 
stormy words that ensued to declare that she would " keep it on till she was 
through dinner." After dinner, being alarmed, she consulted a neighbor 
about it. (For further observations on the case of Mrs. R. and others, see 
" Boston Medical and Surgical Journal," May 15, 1890.) 



Q. "What do you think?" 

A. " You are scratching something, so — " [Illustrat- 
ing.] "What is it?" 

Q. " Don't you know what I am doing ? " 

A. " No, I don't know." 

Q. " Are you awake or asleep ? " 

A. [Evidently puzzled.] " I can hear what you say 
and I can talk, but I can't see you." [Her eyes are closed.] 

Q. " What do you infer from this? " 

A. [Evidently puzzled — does not know what to an- 
swer.] " I never saw such a person as you are for asking 

Q. " Are you awake or asleep? " 

A. [Still puzzled, but finally apparently catching the 
suggestion.] " Asleep, I suppose ; yes, asleep." 

Q. " What is the difference between you now and when 
you are not here ? " 

A. " I am asleep now." 

Q. " Are you the same person ? " 

A. [Emphatically.] " Of course I jim the same per- 
son." [This answer should be compared with the answer 
of Chris later given.] 

Q. "Do you know everything that happens to you 
when you are awake?" 

A. " Yes, everything." 

Q. *' When awake do you know everything that happens 
when you are asleep ? " 

A. " No, nothing, and I do not think it quite fair. " 

Q. "Why?" 

A. " Because I like to know things. It is just that — 
[with a finger makes a sign imitating my method of hyp- 
notizing] and I go to sleep." 

Q. " Do you feel tliat you are exactly the same j^erson ? " 

A. " Of course. Why should I feel differently ? " 

It is interesting to compare the general straightforward, 


direct tone of these answers with those of Chris, now to be 
given. The change is easily recognized. 

B II is now more deeply hypnotized, — to use a com- 
mon but incorrect expression,^ — and Chris appears, as 
shown by the usual change of manner. 

Q. " Why do you let your arms move so ? " [Patient is 
fidgeting and moving her hands and arms. Shakes her 
head as a negative response, and keeps her lips tightly 

Q. " Why don't you speak ? " 

A. " I d-d-d-don't want t-t-to." 

Question repeated. 

A. " I d-d-d-d-don't know." 

I ask her another question. She replies by shaking her 
head in the negative, as if unable to answer. 

Q. " Why do you stutter ? " 

A. [Annoyed.] " I d-d-d-d-don't st-st-st-stutter. If I 
ch-ch-choose t-t-to st-st-stutter I shall." 

Q. " Why have }^ou suddenly changed ? " 

A. " I have not ch-ch-changed at all." 

"You were not stuttering a minute ago." 

"I was n-n-not t-t-t-talking a m-m-m-minute ago; 
'She' was." 

Q. " Who is ' she ' ? " 

A. [Showing irritation and annoyance.] " I won't ^-^- 
g-go through that n-n-nonsense again. I t-t-told you t-t- 
ten d-d-days ago. If you d-d-don't know any better now 
I sha'n't t-t-tell you." 

[These answers were given with a good deal of resent- 

Q. " What is your name ? " 

A. " I sha'n't t-t-tell you." 

Q. " Can't you for politeness ? " 

1 The correct way of describing the process would be, B II was by a de- 
vice changed to Chris. 


A. " I d-d-don't cli-ch-choose t-to be p-p-polite. I have 
t-t-told you many trt-times." 

Q. " Why do you stutter ? " 

A. ''I d-d-don't stutter — only something wrong with 
my t-t-tongue." 

Q. " Did you ever stutter in your life ? " 

A. " No, and She did not either." 

[It will be noticed how quick B III was to make the 
distinction between herself and " she " at this time. I here 
tried to catch her by the use of the word "you," but 

Q. " Tell me once more your name." 

A. [After some hesitation and thought.] "Chris L." 
[Her real name, we will say, is Christine L. Brown.] 

Q. "What more?" 

A. " Th-that is all. You had b-b-better make a note of 
it and rememl)er it." 

Q. " What does L. stand for ? " 

A. " N-n-not at all n-necessary th- th-that you sh-should 

Q. " Does it stand for Brown ? " ^ 

A. [Irritated.] " N-n-no, her name is Brown. It-told 
you th-that yesterday." 

Q. " Well, I shall call you Miss Brown." 

A. " If you ch-choose t t-to c-c-call me Miss Brown you 
c-can. I shall have n-nothing t-t-to d-do with you." 

Q. " How did you get the name of Chris ? " 

A. [Objects to answering, dodges the question and 
evades — then says :] " You th-think you c-can make me 
t-tell everything b-b-because you c-c-can make her." 

I change my tone, upbraiding her for not being frank 
and then explain that my only object is to test her memory ; 
I add that I know how she got it, and 'she knows that I 

1 That is, I mentioned the real name of Miss Beauchamp for which 
"Brown" is here sobsti luted. 


know, and I know that she knows, so she might as well 
tell, as it is merely a test of continuity of memory. Sub- 
ject becomes more placid and says : " You suggested it 
to me one day, and I remember everything," [This is 

The peculiar character traits manifested by Chris, which 
distinguished her so unmistakably from Miss Beauchamp, 
both when awake and when hypnotized as B II, naturally 
gave rise to the suspicion that Chris might be an artificial 
product, the result of her own self-suggestion, or simply 
hypnotic acting. It seeped possible that Miss Beauchamp 
might as a result of shading have acquired some informa- 
tion about the m^^re behavior of certain types of second- 
ary personalities, and that the ideas thus originated might 
have developed themselves afterwards in the hypnotic state 
in such a way as to lead Miss Beauchamp in this state to 
act out a character after some preconceived theory ; or, if 
not deliberate acting, as the psychological development 
of auto-suggested ideas. On this theory Miss Beauchamp 
was closely questioned on her past reading and knowledge 
of psychological phenomena. Nothing was elicited, how- 
ever, that in any way supported this theory. I never dis- 
covered that she had any knowledge of the literature of 
abnormal psychology, or knew anything about modern 
researches in this field of inquiry, including hypnotism, mul- 
tiple personahty, etc. Thinking possibly that she had read 
something which might have been forgotten in the waking 
state, B II was similarly catechised, and finally Chris was 
put through the same cross-examination. But in no state 
was there any memory of Miss Beauchamp's having read 
any book or acquired any information which could have 
worked itself out as suspected. The final developments 
of the case, as will appear, completely negatived such a 

The psychological relations of B II to the waking con- 


sciousness differed in one very important respect from those 
of Chris to the same. I am not here concerned with the 
'proofs of this difference, or with the psychological phe- 
nomena themselves. This evidence will appear m the 
course of this study. I am at present concerned merely 
with the conditions under which the different hypnotic 
states or personaUties developed, and their varying peculi- 
arities of character. Yet it will aid in the understanding 
of the various phenomena exhibited if certain psychological 
relations, which at this time were only hypothetical, but 
which were later proved, are mentioned. 

It lias been stated that the hypnotic state B II always 
spoke of herself as Miss Beauchamp, and never recog- 
nized any distinction of pei"Sonality between the two 
states. In character they were the same. Now nothing 
was ever observed, at this time or later, to indicate that 
B II, as such, had a persisting and continuous existence 
during the waking state of Miss Beauchamp. It is 
frequently assumed by writers that the hypnotic con- 
sciousness persists, as a more or less systematized self, 
during waking life. This conception is expressed in such 
phrases as the " subconscious self," the " hidden self," etc., 
which are loosely used as the equivalent of the " hypnotic 

It is a much more difficult matter than would at first sight 
seem to be the case, — indeed, much more difficult than is 
generally supposed, — to prove the existence of a second- 
ary consciousness during the normal waking life. This 
idea that the hypnotic self persists after the subject wakes, 
aa a concomitant subconscious self, — that is, a self which 
has an existence concomitant with, but unknown to, the 
waking personal consciousness, — has grown out of cer- 
tain suggested post-hypnotic phenomena, and also from 
what is observed in certain hysterical states. Post-hyp- 
notic phenomena have been already described. Still bet- 


ter our illustrations of subconscious mental action are 
those indicating arithmetical calculation, fii-st devised, I 
think, by the late Edmund Gurney in England. Success- 
ful experiments of this kind I have been able to obtain 
with Miss Beauchamp. To make such experiments, a 
suitable subject in hypnosis is told, say, to add or multiply 
certain figures, or make some other calculation, and per- 
haps give the result at the end of a certain period, say 
eighteen hours, which would again require the counting of 
the passage of time. The subject is instantaneously awak- 
ened before he could possibly make the calculation, which 
is worked out subconsciously without the personal knowl- 
edge of the subject, and later the answer is given in one of 
various ways in response to the command. 

This problem of the sub-conscious self we shall consider 
later in another place (Part III). I will here merely point 
out that all such phenomena are artifacts, the artificial pro- 
ducts of suggestion (just as hypnosis itself is an artificial 
dissociation), and in no way indicate that habitually and 
normally there is a subconsciousness so elaborate that it can 
be regarded as in any sense a self ; or, when a person can be 
deeply hypnotized, that the whole of the stream of con- 
sciousness which constitutes hypnosis — the personal hyp- 
notic consciousness — persists as such after waking. This 
is by no means a denial that some elements of the hypnotic 
consciousness, some ideas or emotions may not become by 
artifice or other influence dissociated and then persist dur- 
ing the waking state as a subconsciousness. On the con- 
trary such may be shown to be the case. It is a denial 
that, under normal conditions, that stream of conscious- 
ness which constitutes the personal self during hypnosis 
persists as a whole, or in the large sense of a self, after 
waking ; or that we may justifiably speak of the hypnotic 
self as a second normal hidden self. The exact mechanism 
of artificial subconscious phenomena is somewhat complex, 


but in a general way it is sufficiently correct to say that 
the suggestion dissociates a limited number of mental 
states (ideas, etc.), from the remainder of the personal 
consciousness, and these isolated dissociated ideas take 
on what is called " automatic " activity, and carry out the 
suggestion subconsciously. They may and often do tem- 
porarily rob the personal self of a part of its field. The 
dissociation is only temporaiy, and as soon as the experi- 
ment has been accomplished, synthesis again takes place, 
or the activity of the dissociated ideas subsides. It is true 
that when the subject is put again into hypnosis he remem- 
bera the subconscious thoughts dissociated by the experi- 
ment. He remembers his arithmetical problem. He may 
remember how he did it and why he did it ; but he likewise 
remembers his waking thoughts, — the thoughts of the 
personal self, — and therefore, if continuity of memory be 
taken as a criterion, it would show that the hypnotic con- 
sciousness is identical with the waking consciousness as 
well as the subconscious. But it cannot be identical with 
both. The real fact is that when the subject is thrown 
into hypnosis the artificially created subconscious memories 
become amalgamated with the hypnotic consciousness, and 
therefore the previously subconscious thoughts are remem- 
bered by it. When he wakes up these memories are 
again dissociated, that is, forgotten in the sense that they 
cannot be awakened, synthesized, and recalled. 

Tlie erroneous assumptions in the notion of the " hidden 
self " are that normally and habitually there is a persistent 
hypnotic self^ that is, persistent during the waking state as a 
subconsciousness, and that this self is a definite entity occu- 
pying a definite place in the mental economy. It implies 
that whatever subconscious states may be present normally 
are coextensive with the whole consciousness which makes 
up the personal self during hypnosis. This is the funda- 
mental error. The hypnotic self is ordinarily a well devel- 


oped personality; it is a -great complex grouping of con- 
scious processes constituting what is called a self, in fact 
is the primary self shorn of some of its faculties. There- 
fore if it persisted as a self after waking, we should have a 
paradox. The truth of tliis will be recognized if we con- 
sider the lighter stages of hypnosis. Here the disintegra- 
tion may be so slight that the hypnotic self may have such 
a large field of consciousness as to be approximately equiv- 
alent to the waking self. Surely such a hypnotic state can- 
not exist as an extra self after the subject wakes. 

On the other hand, in certain hysterical states, such as 
anesthesia and fixed ideas, there is a persistent dissociation 
of consciousness, meaning a persistent subconsciousness of 
a greater or less extent, ranging from a few isolated sensa- 
tions to fairly large groups of ideas. Sometimes these 
subconscious ideas spontaneously manifest themselves in 
certain outbursts, and thus reveal their presence. At other 
times this subconsciousness, by suitable devices, can be 
tapped and shown to exist. The lost sensory perceptions, 
which constitute the anesthesia, can be shown to be re- 
tained subconsciously. The subconscious " fixed ideas " 
may sometimes be shown to be a part of a large group of 
ideas, — so large as to constitute almost a second person- 
ality. Such states, then, exist concomitantly with the 
waking consciousness, coexist with it, and indicate a veri- 
table doubling of the mind. Such a subconsciousness, as 
will appear, was Chris. 

But even a subconsciousness of this kind is not identical 
in extent with the hypnotic consciousness. The subcon- 
sciousness, so long as it is subconscious, has a much nar- 
rower field ; it does not (excepting in crises) have control, 
for instance, of the arms and legs, or the speech faculties, 
and it is not possessed of the intellectual capacities which 
the subject in hypnosis possesses. When the subject is 
hypnotized and put into a particular state, the subcon- 


sciousness may become fused with this particular hypnotic 
consciousness, and, if so, its contents are then remembered 
and the whole may then form an alternating personality .^ 
A subconsciousness is a particular group of mental states^ 
dissociated from but concomitant with the personal self^; but 
we have no way as yet of experimentally determining how 
extensive this subconscious group may be. The ordinary 
methods of tapping the subconscious stratum (automatic 
writing, speech, etc.) are fallacious, as for the very purpose 
of manifesting itself the subconscious tends to rob the wak- 
ing self of part of its ideas. 

Now as a fact, B II never showed any evidence of per- 
sisting as a concomitant subconsciousness. If you asked 
her what became of herself when Miss Beauchamp was 
awake as B I, she would answer she did not know. Did 
she exist at such times as B II? No, she was waked up, 
that was all: she was B I: she was the same person. 
The question itself, in her mind, implied an absurdity or 
wrong conception. She was B I; how then could she 
otherwise exist at the same time, and as somebody else ? 
B I went to sleep, and we called her B II. Nor did B II 
have any memory of having had mental experiences when 
B I was awake, other than those of B I, including, of 
course, the experiences which B I had had, but had for- 
gotten.8 Nor were there any spontaneous manifestations 
of subconscious mental life, like automatic writing, speech, 
or obsessions, which could be traced to a persistent B II. 
B II, in other words, was B I " asleep," and was limited 

* It may then be hastily, but unwarrantably, assumed that the whole al« 
ternatiug personality persists subconsciously after waking, instead of only a 
limited number of concomitant states. 

* Janet's " L^ontine," in the case of Mme. B., may be taken as a good 

» This statement does not include the isolated subconscious states probar 
bly habitual to every normal mind, and which B II remembered. An in- 
vestigation sliowed that there were such states, but that they belonged to 
B I. To consider this question here would involve too wide a digression. 


to that state. It was for this reason that B II was later 
(Chapter XVIII) termed B la, which expresses this re- 
lationship ; while the term B II was transferred to another 
hypnotic state which was afterwards discovered. This is 
important to bear in mind. 

With Chris, on the contrary, it was different. From 
almost the very first her language implied a concomitant 
existence for herself, a double mental life for Miss Beau- 
champ. She always spoke as if she had her own thoughts, 
perceptions, and will during the time while Miss Beau- 
champ was in existence. As an instance of this may be 
taken the conversation when Chris was questioned to dis- 
cover whether Miss Beauchamp had read any book about 
multiple personalities, and also to determine whether the 
whole range of ideas gathered by the reading of the wak- 
ing self, B I, was retained in Chris's mind. It was after- 
wards shown that the latter was only in part the case, but 
her answers implied coexistence and parallelism of thought, 
for she explained certain lapses of knowledge by asserting 
that ordinarily, as she herself was not fond of books, she 
did not pay attention while Miss Beauchamp was reading ; 
but that when she did so, which was only when interested, 
she could understand and remember the text; that she 
liked different books from those Miss Beauchamp liked, 
and that she understood some things Miss Beauchamp did 
not, and vice versa} 

1 It may seem a contradiction to say that Chris knew Miss Beauchamp's 
thoughts, and yet did not understand all that the latter read. The distinc- 
tion is comprehensible, though it proves a limitation of Chris's field of con- 
sciousness relative to that of B I, and shows that it was not as full and 
complete as the latter's. A distinction must be drawn between Miss Beau- 
champ's ordinary thought-knowledge and the knowledge wliich she acquired 
as a matter of learning, such as French, shorthand, etc. The former, Chris was 
fully conscious of, but beyond a few words she did not know French, though 
Miss Beauchamp read it easily. The same was true of shorthand. Indeed, 
later, one of the personalities wrote shorthand in her diary so that Chris should 
not understand what she had written ; and I was in the habit of using Frencli to 
convey ioforniation which it was important should be concealed from Chris. 


A claim of this kind, to be able to pay attention or not 
as she pleased, when the waking consciousness was read- 
ing, required the coexistence and simultaneous action of 
two distinct and unlike streams of thought in one individ- 
ual. For a second consciousness to be interested or not, to 
pay attention volitionaUy (that is, to will) or not, while the 
first consciousness is acting, for the one consciousness to 
understand when the other did not, and vice versa, neces- 
sitated two coexisting consciousnesses. The fact that Chris 
remembered what Miss Beauchamp read did not necessarily 
imply coexistence. A person in hypnosis may remember 
what occurs in the waking state, though the two mental 
states are successive, not coexistent. Chris's claim meant 
pamllelism of thought. The idea that Chris might con- 
tinue her existence as a subconscious peraonality rested on 
nothing more than her own statements at this time. It 
became an important psychological problem that required 
investigation and to be proved or disproved. It should be 
remembered that up to this time Chris had had no inde- 
pendent existence excepting in my presence, and if she had 
done any independent reading it must have been as a sub- 
conscious personality. Continuing the inquiry in regard to 
this point, I had accused Chris, in order to draw her out^ 
of not being able to understand what Miss Beauchamp 
read, or to read independently, subconsciously and contem- 
poraneously with the waking self. 

" What you mean to say is, you can't read." 

" I won't read." 

" You can read, then ? " 

"Yes, but won't." 


" I don't like it. I won't pay attention when she reads." 

" Never ? " 

" Only once in a great while." 

" Do you understand what ' she ' reads ? " 


" I understand some things. I pay attention to some 
things, and not to others ; sometimes, though, when I do 
pay attention I don't understand, but she does ; and some- 
times she does not understand and I do." (At this inter- 
view her memory was tested for a book which Miss 
Beauchamp had read, and was found to be the same as the 

Such statements in themselves of course have no scien- 
tific value as proof ; a memory of a previous subconscious 
personal existence might well be a delusion. Nor would 
the fact that she remembered certain previous subconscious 
ideas — ideas not possessed by the waking self — prove the 
subconscious existence of a " hidden " Chris, any more 
than does the memory possessed by the ordinary hypnotic 
self prove, as I have already pointed out, the subconscious 
persistence of that self. Indeed, no hypnotic self, that has 
not exhibited subconscious manifestations, has ever claimed 
a persistent subconscious existence. Certainly B II did 
not. If Chris's belief was a delusion, it may be asked how 
did she come by it, seeing that none of the other pei-sonali- 
ties or hypnotic states had such a belief. It certainly was 
not suggested to her, for in the beginning I always denied 
the truth of it. Nevertheless, in spite of my denials, Chris 
always refused to admit the identity of her own personality 
with that of B I, whether as a hypnotic or subconscious 
personality. " We are not the same person," she would 
insist; "we do not think the same thoughts;" meaning 
when B I was present. In other words, she claimed, in 
her own peculiar language, to be always present as a 

When asked the direct question if she continued to exist 
as a separate and distinct self while B I was awake she 
asserted positively and unqualifiedly that she did, and 
maintained that at such times her own contemporaneous 
thoughts ran in a different stream from those and were 



totally unlike those of her other self whose inmost thoughts 
and feelings she then knew. 

This question of Chris's being a coexisting as well as an 
alternating personality, was more difficult to prove off-hand 
than might seem at first sight to be the case. Experimen- 
tal methods were unsatisfactory. It was, to be sure, easy 
enough, as I soon found, to obtain experimentally automatic 
and post-hypnotic phenomena, like that of Miss Beau- 
champ's throwing down the book which she was trying to 
read, and even to communicate with Chris while a subcon- 
scious personality. Numerous observations of this kind 
might be cited, all showing the existence of concomitant 
states, and the doubling of consciousness ; and it was easy 
to identify the second personality communicated with as 
Chris. But a doubling obtained experimentally might 
well be explained as an artifact and the product of sugges- 
tion. Spontaneous phenomena were essential for proof. 
These, and plenty of them, and of every variety, were 
soon forthcoming, and proved conclusively that there were 
moments when there was a veritable doubling of conscious- 
ness. They will be found running through this study. 

To admit that Chris existed even momentarily as a co- 
conscious second self while Miss Beauchamp was awake 
may seem inconsistent with the statement made above that 
normally the hypnotic self does not peraist as such during 
the waking state. I must ask the reader to suspend his 
judgment in this and several other matters of this kind 
until the case has been more fuUy unfolded. "We shall 
soon see that Chris was not simply a hypnotic self, but she 
was distinctly a pathological condition, both as an alterna- 
ting and as a subconscious self. 

But if it shall be found that Chris coexisted as a second 
self during any part of B I's life, there still will remain 
two questions of psychological importance: first, what 
was the extent of the field of her co-conscious life ? That 


is, when she became a co-consciousness, did the mass of her 
mental processes remain unchanged, or become augmented, 
or did it dwindle to elementary proportions ? Second, was 
her subconscious life continuously persistent during that 
of B I, or did it come into existence only sporadically 
under certain conditions when aroused by special excitants ? 
These questions are diiSicult to answer. Chris's own state- 
ments, being based on introspection, cannot be accepted as 
reliable evidence, though they are free from the artifacts 
which experimental methods are liable to produce. For 
the present we leave aside this portion of the problem 
until the data for any kind of subconscious life have been 



IN these early days of Chris's appearance she was in- 
clined to be boastful, or at least to claim a superior 
intelligence to that of Miss Beauchamp, whom she 
scorned. "She is a stupid chump," she would say, 
revelling in the slang as a child might. She also, when 
driven into a comer with questions, sought to evade, 
rather than appear ignorant or incapable, so that it was 
necessary to take some of her assertions with a grain of 
salt. This was particularly the case when her powers 
relative to those of Miss Beauchamp were in question. 
Later, when we came to know each other better, she made 
a solemn promise never to deceive or mislead in matters 
of serious inquiry. This promise she rigidly kept, and, 
excepting when it was a matter of pure fun, I do not 
know any deliberate falsification of fact made by her. 
Often she sought, as will appear, to throw dust in my 
eyes about her own culpable actions, and often she would 
refuse information, but when it came to actual confession I 
always got the exact truth. 

It is a curious fact that from the very beginning of her 
career Chris showed an intense dislike and contempt for 
her other self. Almost from the first words she spoke, 
this attitude was manifested. Even during the first days, 
before she was allowed to open her eyes, and l^efore she 
developed an independent life, as afterwards came to be 
the case, she lost no opportunity of ridiculing Miss B.'s 
love of books and religion, and the intense idealism which 


caused her to respond to life with unnecessary emotional- 
ism. " Her " head was in the clouds, Chris declared, and 
"her" intensity of thought she called "mooning." She 
thought it all "stupid" and "silly." The contrast be- 
tween the attitude of Chris and that of B II toward their 
waking self was very striking. If I asked B II who she 
herself was, with quiet dignity she would say, "I am 
myself, Dr. Prince," or "I am Miss Beauchamp," and she 
always gave expression to the same feelings and ideals as 
when awake. But in Chris, from her first entrance, every 
taste and ideal had become changed; and she had no 
respect for those of the person to whom she found herself 
tiresomely linked in life. 

The difference between the ideals of Miss Beauchamp 
and her subconscious self offered a constant and entertain- 
ing study. One of Miss Beauchamp's prominent character- 
istics is a sense of responsibility and duty. Amusement 
plays no part in her conception of life, owing to certain cir- 
cumstances of her environment. However much one might 
from a moral point of view admire this characteristic, there 
was a delightful attractiveness in Chris's absolute disregard 
of responsibility; she was a child of nature. Though it 
was not until much later in her career that she had an oppor- 
tunity to put her own ideas into practice, and to please 
her own tastes (which she did with a vengeance), she early 
let her sentiments be known. It was contempt for Miss 
Beauchamp's ideals which led her to try to give the im- 
pression of mental superiority. She had, as we shall see, 
a certain plausible excuse for this, in that, as a subcon- 
scious personality, she observed things^ when Miss Beau- 
champ was absorbed in thought, which the latter did not 
observe, and remembered much that had been forgotten or 
never known by her. When I say that "as a subconscious 
personality " she did this I am stating an interpretation of 
the phenomena which were later observed rather than the 


actual facts themselves. The facts were that Chris re- 
membered and described having seen and heard much of 
which Miss Beauchamp was ignorant; such as the face of 
a passer-by or sounds in the street. This could be experi- 
mentally demonstrated. The now generally accepted in- 
terpretation of such phenomena is subconscious perception, 
and there seems to be no way of inteipreting the perception 
which Chris remembered excepting in this way, but it is 
well to bear in mind that it is an interpretation, other- 
wise there is danger of statements of fact becoming too 
broad. In this sense she also could subconsciously inter- 
fere with and influence Miss Beauchamp's actions, as 
when she made her fling down the book and diverted her 
thoughts to prevent her from reading. Chris thought this 
was quite sufficient to constitute mental superiority. To 
draw her out I used to insist that she did not know as 
much about the psychology of Miss Beauchamp's mind as 
she asserted. This would annoy her and put her ou her 
mettle to prove her claims. On the first occasion when so 
taunted she replied peevishly, " You would be more sen- 
sible to be friends with me than to say I don't know things 
when I do," and this I found to be the case. Most of 
Chris's peculiarities of conduct came from her thoroughly 
childlike character. Her point of view and knowledge of 
the world being those of a very young girl, she loved to 
be thought wicked, though her ideas of wickedness were 
youthful. She pretended to like French novels, though 
she could not read French and knew nothing about the 

In the course of the interview of May 1, reported in the 
last chapter, Chris remarked that she smelled the odor of 
a cigarette which I had been smoking. I offered her one. 
Delighted at the idea, she accepted, but smoked the cigar- 
ette very clumsily. The fact that smoking is something 
absolutely repugnant to Miss Beauchamp's tastes added to 


Chris's enjoyment. Her manner was that of a child in 

" Won't she be cross ? " she laughed. 


"She is not in the habit of smoking cigarettes. / 
shall smoke though." 

Miss Beauchamp, when awakened, entirely ignorant of 
what she had been doing, complained of a bitter taste in 
her mouth, but could not identify it, and I did not en- 
lighten her. At the next interview I remarked to Chris, 
" Was n't it funny to see Miss Beauchamp when she tasted 
the tobacco in her mouth, and did not know what it 

Chris laughed and thought it a great joke. " Yes, she 
thought you had been putting quinine in her mouth, but 
did not dare ask you." This remark, later verified by 
Miss Beauchamp, was one of many which showed Chris 
had knowledge of Miss Beauchamp 's thoughts. 

The sequel to this episode was amusing. At a later 
period I was engaged in making an experimental study of 
visions,^ and for the purpose had Miss Beauchamp (B I) 
look into a glass wherein she saw various visions of one 
kind and another. That is to say, the phenomena of so- 
called crystal visions were easily produced, and she proved 
an excellent subject. These visions were, for the most 
part, reproductions of past experiences. In one experi- 
ment she was horrified and astonished on looking into the 
globe to see the scene of the cigarette rehearsed in all its 
details. She saw herself sitting on a sofa — the identical 
sofa on which she was at that moment seated — smoking 
cigarettes. Her eyes, in the vision, were closed. (Chris's 
eyes were always closed at this time. ) It was amusing to 
watch the expression of astonishment and chagrin with 
which she beheld herself in this Bohemian act. She 

1 Brain, Winter Number, 1898. 


indignantly repudiated the fact, declared it was not true, 
and that she had never smoked a cigarette in her life. 
The childlike expression on her face in the vision — 
Chris's face — which she characterized as "foolish" also 
annoyed her. 

The ease with which visual hallucinations were induced 
in Miss Beauchamp indicated great suggestibility, a fact 
of considerable significance, as we shall see. For the 
present, however, we are concerned only with the indi- 
vidual character of the hypnotic and subconscious states. 

Continuing the conversation about French novels and 
wickedness, Chris remarked laughingly, "She does not 
enjoy wickedness. I do. She thinks she is going to be 
a sister. She won't as long as I am here." 


[With an expression of disgust on her face.] "I have 
a great objection to having nothing to eat, and doing 
things I am told to do, and going to church and being 
preached at. I have other things to do." 


[Laughing.] "To smoke cigarettes." 

For the first two months after Chris's appearance, she 
used to remain seated on a sofa before me with her eyes 
closed, as did B II. She early developed what at first 
appeared to be an inconsequential trick of rubbing her 
closed eyelids, as if to remove an uncomfortable feeling. 
When asked why she did this, she explained that she 
wanted to get her eyes open to see. She could not volun- 
tarily open her eyes, owing apparently to the original 
suggestion producing hypnosis, including as it did the 
idea of closure of the lids. Nevertheless, there was this 
difference between this personality and B II. The latter 
was ready to accept any reasonable suggestion without 
remonstrance, but Chris from the outset showed a will 
and individuality of her own, which were in no way sub- 


ject to anybody else's influence. Now she sought to get 
her eyes open, taking every opportunity to rub them when 
not prevented. She wanted to see ; she had a " right to 
see" and "would see," she declared, and complained 
because this was not allowed. It was forbidden on the 
theory that, if she succeeded and could thus add true vis- 
ual images of her surroundings to her own consciousness, 
these same images when seen by Miss Beauchamp would 
by association tend to bring Chris spontaneously. This 
afterward came to pass, as there is reason to believe. But 
though her eyes were kept closed, she was lively and viva- 
cious, and very alert to " catch on " to everything going 
on in the room. As we became better acquainted, she 
gave vent to her spirit of fun and irresponsibility. 

At this time some phenomena were reported which were 
the prelude to a long series of events which are difficult 
of interpretation excepting as interferences by the subcon- 
scious personality, Chris, with the mental processes of the 
primary or personal consciousness. Up to this time, with 
one exception, the manifestations of the mental life of that 
group of mental states which we have dubbed Chris, were 
. limited to the short periods when, as an unexpected result 
of the hpynotizing process, the waking self was trans- 
formed into this second ^ personality. During those 
periods Chris was, in the slang of the street, "It." For 
the time being there was no other personality, and she 
had the field to herself. The one exception just referred 
to was the few post-hypnotic phenomena, artificially in- 
duced. Post-hypnotic phenomena, as already pointed 
out, are manifestations of a "doubling of consciousness," 
artificially induced, of a kind to form two more or less 
independent mental systems. The independent activity 

1 Although labelled B III, she was a second personality ; as B II is, more 
correctly, only a hypnotic state of B I. The distinction between a hypnotic 
state and a personality is psychologically arbitrary, but practically useful. 


of each system produces the phenomena. But such phe- 
nomena, as ordinarily brought about, are not spontaneous, 
but the result of artificial interference ; they are of conse- 
quence psychologically in that they show the ease with 
which even normal minds may be split in two. 

The strange behavior now reported by Miss Beauchamp 
embraced phenomena which were entirely spontaneous. 
Their significance, when scientifically interpreted, con- 
sisted in the fact that they were evidence of a duality of 
the mind, and the contemporaneous activity of the two 
minds, at one and the same moment. Further, the con- 
tent of the phenomena implied considerable will and 
intelligence in the second mind. At this date, of course, 
the truth of the phenomena depended entirely upon the 
statements of Miss Beauchamp and of Chris; but at a 
later date I had opportunities, over and over again, — a 
hundred times, I might say, — personally to witness similar 
and even more pronounced "phenomena of automatism," 
as they are called. These early beginnings of automatism 
are mentioned here in order that the conditions, under 
which the development of the personalities in this case 
took place, may be appreciated, as well as the entirely 
spontaneous character of the phenomena. At this time, 
and indeed up to a much later period. Miss Beauchamp 
knew nothing of her dual self, and nothing of what took 
place in hypnosis. She knew she was hypnotized, but not 
a word was said to her of her own behavior in hypnosis, 
either as Chris or B II. Consequently, when she was 
the victim of subconscious action, she was at a loss to 
understand her own conduct. 

May 11. "Miss Beauchamp reports that she has been per- 
fectly well since last here, two days ago ; but states that she 
has been doing a most extraordinary thing, namely, telling 
frightful lies; and the worst of it is she does not care at the 
moment though she afterwards feels intensely mortified. She 


has, howevei", been telling these lies to only one person, her 
friend, Miss K. Yesterday, while riding in the street car, 
Miss K. asked her where Mrs. Z. lived [Mrs. Z. is a very 
wealthy lady, prominent in society, who occupied a beautiful 
place in the suburbs]. Miss Beauchamp immediately pointed 
to a squalid little house by the roadside. On Miss K. express- 
ing surprise that Mrs. Z. should live in such a poor sort of 
house. Miss Beauchamp explained by saying that Mrs. Z. had 
put all her money in the Five Cents' Savings Bank, and, 
through the Bank's failure, had lost it, and that she was now 
economizing. Miss K. looked at her in a most surprised way, 
as if trying to make her out, but said nothing. Miss Beau- 
champ says that she tells a great many lies of this kind to Miss 
K., and seems at the moment rather to enjoy doing it. De- 
clares that she has not been in the habit of telling lies, and 
that it is foreign to her nature. 

" Hypnosis. At once put into the state of B III, who stut- 
ters as usual. "When asked why Miss Beauchamp told the lies 
promptly replied with glee : ' I made her do it. I made her 
say that about Mrs. Z's house,' etc. It was no end of fun, 
she thought, and she was going to do it again. ' I make her 
do all sorts of things,' she boasted ; ' I made her drink three 
glasses of wine last night, — she never drinks but one, — and 
then I tried to make her talk and tell everything she knew, but 
she wouldn't. I could not make her do it, but I tried.' Chris 
is in high spirits over her practical joke, and is full of fun. She 
is ordered to desist from such things. At first she rebels, but 
finally assents." 

This promise was not kept, for: 

May 12. " Miss Beauchamp reports that she still tells ridi- 
culous lies to Miss K. ; does not understand why ; her lies are 
palpably untrue, and Miss K. must know them as such. Curi- 
ously enough, she finds a certain sort of delight while utter- 
ing them. Miss K. thinks she has changed very much in 
character. Says that she also contradicts Miss K., instead 
of accepting without hesitation all she says, as formerly. In 
reply to question as to her attitude of mind toward Miss K., 


says she is conscious of a certain feeling of bravado and 
antagonism, apparently representing a desire to show her 

Chris must be acquitted of all culpability on account of 
this last mental attitude. 1 was the culprit, for it was an 
artifact, a phenomenon of post-hypnotic suggestion, and 
illustrates the influence of ideas originating in this way. 
On April 24 Miss Beauchamp had complained of the 
strong influence which Miss K. had over her, — making 
her do things against her will, etc. This influence Miss 
Beauchamp appeared to feel very keenly, and resented. 
Accordingly, a counter-suggestion was given to B II, 
(which of course was unknown to Miss Beauchamp), that 
she should be under nobody's personal influence. This 
had apparently worked itself out in the way reported. 

Mrs. X. is a great friend of Miss Beauchamp; one 
whom she idolizes and looks up to with the greatest 
respect and veneration, amounting almost to reverence. 
She was therefore much disturbed to find herself telling a 
lot of hardly respectful nonsense about j\Irs. X. 's husband, 
of which the following memorandum is made in my notes. 
It shows Chris's idea of fun, and her love of practical 
jokes — always on Miss B. 

May 16. " Miss Beauchamp reports that she is still telling 
fibs. For example, she told Miss M. that Mr. X. was a grcjit 
admirer of Swinburne, and had busts of him all about the 
house; that he had named his baby Algernon Swinburne X.; 
that this baby was boneless; and tliat Mr. X. fed him and Mrs. 
X. on nothing but oatmeal, using up all the samples he had in 
the house. Miss Beauchamp is much horrified at telling such 
nonsense, but does not seem to be able to help it ; cannot un- 
derstand why she does it ; more than this, she tells such pure 
nonsense that she feels it mortifying." 


Phenomena of this kind are psychologically known as 
impulsions. The subject is compelled to do or say some- 
thing against his own wishes and inclinations. Some- 
times, indeed, he is horrified at the impelling idea, from 
which he recoils, and often seeks protection against him- 
self. Sometimes — and of this we shall later see examples 
— it is not so much an impulse to act, as an obsessing idea 
which possesses his mind ; an imperative idea^ or obsession. 
These impulses and obsessions, being outside the will, are 
types of automatisms. Their genesis is not always the 
same, but they may have their origin in subconscious 
ideas which exist unknown to the personal consciousness, 
and which break out from time to time in eruptions, and 
then invade the field of the waking consciousness. Miss 
Beauchamp's lies plainly had their origin in another con- 
sciousness, whose thoughts were hidden from her own. 

It may be pointed out here that these impulsions to lie 
differed in one respect from similar phenomena which can 
be experimentally induced in states of abstraction or ex- 
treme absentmindedness in some hysterics, and which I 
have often evoked in Miss Beauchamp's case. Miss 
Beauchamp was conscious of her automatic thoughts and 
speech, but in a second class of impulsive phenomena the 
subject is entirely unaware of what he has said or done. 
The subject, at the moment, goes into a condition of 
abstraction (dissociation), during which the automatic 
speech or writing is performed. The subject then is 
neither conscious of the ideas which gave rise to the autom- 
atism, nor of the words spoken or written. The personal 
consciousness does not hear its own voice because of the 
temporary division of its own consciousness. We shall 
later find examples of this. 

In this connection an exceedingly interesting point, 
which I will not pass over without at least calling atten- 
tion to it, is the relation between Miss Beauchamp's 


thoughts and her compulsory (automatic) language, as 
well as the relations between Chris's thoughts and the 
speech centres. Did Chris directly make use of the speech 
centres, and do the lying directly? and, if so, what were 
Miss Beauchamp's thoughts at the time ? Or, did Chris 
do it by influencing Miss Beauchamp's thoughts, so that 
the latter did the lying directly? When interrogated, 
Chris frankly said she did not understand the relations 
between herself and Miss Beauchamp psychologically ; that 
when she made Af^r talk she (Chris) "simply talked, that 
was all," and then Miss Beauchamp thought the things 
she (Chris) said. This corresponds with what is known 
of some types of automatic writing. 

Assuming this statement to represent accurately the facts, 
and that Chris at such times is some sort of a contemporary 
dissociated subconscious mentality, this would seem to mean 
that the act of speaking (or functioning of the various 
language centres) aroused in B 1 the correlated thoughts 
which were identical with, or part of those of, the sub- 
conscious mind. As further evidence of this may be cited 
the fact that Miss Beauchamp while talking experienced 
in a mild way the delight which was plainly Chris's so 
that the correlated emotion was incorporated along with 
the thoughts. The same kind of phenomenon may be 
observed sometimes in automatic writing, although most 
subjects are not aware of what the hand is writing. Mi-s. 
H., a patient of mine, and an excellent automatic writer 
and speaker, becomes conscious of what the hand is writ- 
ing the moment the words are about to be written, although 
a second before she had no idea of what they would be. It 
is the same with speaking. The written and spoken ideas 
thus become so incorporated with her own ideas that she is 
unable to determine whether she is responsible for them or 
not. The same awakening of consciousness of tlie subcon- 
scious ideas is true of Fanny S., whose anesthetic hand 


automatically records the number of pricks given to it. 
This subject also describes by automatic speech objects 
placed in the hand. 

May 17. " Reports that she is feeling perifeetly well, and 
considers herself cured ; has no fatigue to-day, although she 
did not go to bed until three o'clock this morning; still tells 

After this Chris got tired of the joke of making Miss 
Beauchamp tell fibs, but it was not long before she adopted 
new tricks to worry her waking self. 



IF the condition of Miss Beauchamp at any particular 
moment could be taken as a criterion, the assertion 
made by her at the last interview, that she was physi- 
cally well, might by the superficial observer be accepted, 
so great was her improvement and so free was she from 
disabilities of the flesh at this particular time. The 
intense fatigue, which had made every task by day a 
painful effort, the insomnia, which increased the fatigue 
of the day and forbade relief even at night, the neuralgic 
pains which nagged at her poor tired body, and the other 
various neurasthenic symptoms had gone. It seemed as if 
at last she might be able to take an active part in life. 

But a closer study showed that this physical restoration 
was deceptive, and did not rest on a solid basis. It was 
easy to demonstrate a condition of nervous instability 
which was in marked contrast with the improved physical 
health, and which seemed to offer a paradox for solution 
when one tried to understand it. By instability, I mean 
that almost any emotion of an unpleasant kind, or sensory 
impression, that happened to be associated in her memory 
with past emotions, was capable of re-exciting all her 
physical infirmities and bringing all back in a jiffy. She 
seemed to be still the victim of a series of little nervous 
shocks — sort of railroad accidents — which produced the 
little attacks of "traumatic neuroses" of which I have 

The "symptom-complex," as our German confreres like 


to say, was easily understood; but it seemed strange, 
almost paradoxical, that an apparently physically normal, 
or approximately normal, individual could be so "broken 
up " by such slight causes. This slang phrase expresses 
with scientific exactness what really occurred. "Disin- 
tegrated " is the psychological term. Miss Beauchamp 
became from moment to moment psycho -neurologically 
disintegrated, so that all sorts of automatisms and per- 
verted reactions to the environment were permitted to 
the nervous system. This condition is pathologically 
hysteria, but is frequently mistaken for true neurasthenia 
as the symptoms simulate closely those of real exhaustion. 
In fact, a wide experience has convinced me that a large 
proportion of the cases which ordinarily pass under the 
name of neurasthenia — a fatigue neurosis — are in reality 
hysteria, and more properly should be designated as hys- 
terical neurasthenia. Certainly every practitioner will 
recognize this condition of instability^ which is a marked 
feature of hysteria, as one which he has seen in minor 
degrees among his so-called neurasthenic patients. The 
peculiarity in Miss Beauchamp's case consisted in such 
attacks coming out of a clear sky, no matter how well she 
might appear to be ; and in the exceedingly slight psychi- 
cal causes which induced the attacks. In consequence of 
her reticence the degree of her instability was discovered 
only gradually. Sensations and memories associated with 
some distressing past event particularly tended to re-excite 
the original emotion, and the emotion, with shock-like 
suddenness, produced its disintegrating effects and out- 
bursts of symptoms. Witness the following instance : 

One day (May 6), Miss Beauchamp appeared with a dejected 
fatigued look upon her face. "It is evident that something 
has gone wrong. In obedience to directions, she brings a writ- 
ten report, according to which it appears that she felt perfectly 
well yesterday up to dinner time, when, while she was in a res- 



taurant, dark clouds came up; on going out she got the idea 
that a thunderstorm was coming; was stricken with terror; 
had palpitation, nausea, hot and cold feelings, and sinking 
feelings; felt as if she could not run home fast enough, but 
forced herself not to run. When she got home the old neuralgic 
pains in her head and side returned ; these were severe, and ac- 
companied with vei'y great fatigue. All these symptoms lasted 
about two hours, and were followed, after reading a book, by 
depression, which was ascribed to the book. Lay awake until 
twelve ; woke twice after that with ' nocturnal palsy ; ' this she 
described as not being able to move a single muscle, not even 
her eyes, and having no feeling throughout her whole body ; 
this lasted five or ten minutes; has often had these attacks. 
To-day feels poorly ; has some nausea, but no pain ; very tired 
and good-for-nothing. States she has great fear of thunder- 
storms, which always throw her into this condition. This has 
been so for the last four or five years. Insists she was never 
afraid of lightning until five years ago, when she was in Provi- 

" Hypnosis. B II states that she remembers perfectly the 
first occasion when she was afraid of lightning. It was in the 
Providence Hospital at night. A tremendous storm came up ; 
there was a great flash of lightning, and she saw a delirious 
patient running down the corridor towards her ; the patient 
seized her but did not do her any harm. Seeing the patient in 
the flash gave her a great terror, similar to but worse than the 
experience of yesterday. Ever since has been afraid of thun- 
derstorms, which excite the foregoing symptoms.* 

May 7th and 9th. " While feeling well, access of symptoms 
from emotional causes, — disappointment on the one occasion, 
and fear on the other." 

Then again her suggestibility was extraordinary and 
apparently equally paradoxical, considering the lack of 
hysterical stigmata of an objective chamcter. It allowed 
many interesting experiments in anesthesia, negative hallu- 

* It later transpired, Chapter XIII, that this was not the whole shock, but 
that on this night she was the victim of a nervous catastrophe which affected 
her subsequent life. 


cinations (or systematized anesthesia) and crystal visions, 
to be made. It may be of interest if one or two of each 
sort of these experiments are briefly mentioned. At any 
rate it will enable those not familiar with suggestibility 
better to appreciate the condition. All these phenomena 
were produced by suggestion while Miss Beauchamp was 
in the waking state. It is easy enough to produce such 
effects in suitable subjects through suggestion in hypnosis, 
but no resort was made to hypnosis in these experiments. 
The suggestions were made to Miss Beauchamp when 
awake. The following illustrates the production of local 
anesthesia : 

I say to Miss Beauchamp, "Sensation will disappear from 
the forefinger of your right hand," at the same time sti'oking 
the finger with light touches. The finger becomes profoundly 
anesthetic, so that a pin may be thrust into the skin, and the 
joints bent without anything being felt. All forms of sensation 
are included in the anesthesia, which is profound for all objects 
and stimuli. 

In the following experiment the anesthesia is of a some- 
what different character ; 

I hold up a metal rod (an electrode for an electrical machine) 
before her eyes and say, " Close your eyes for an instant. AVhen 
you open them this electrode will have disappeared." She closes 
her eyes and on opening them cannot see the metal rod, though 
it is held directly before her. She sees ray hand, as if holding 
something, but she sees nothing else. I tell her to feel the rod. 
She puts her hand upon it and says she can feel it ; in fact, she 
fingers it, and follows the outline of the metal rod and the ball at 
the top. She feels something that she cannot see. I now say, 
" I shall pass the electrode from one hand to the other. When 
it is in the left hand you will see it, but when in the right hand 
it will disappear." I pass the rod back and forth from one hand 
to the other, and the moment it is grasped by the left hand it be- 
comes visible, but disappears as soon as seized by the right. 


A moment's consideration will show that the anesthesia 
or failure in perception in this second experiment differa 
from that in the first in an important respect. The sub- 
ject is not blind for all objects, but only for a particular 
object. She sees everything else, everything but a par- 
ticular system of visual images, the rod. Later, the 
blindness for this system is conditioned by the relation of 
the system to the right hand. The rod is not seen when 
held by the right hand, but is seen when held by the left: 
the psychological conditions have become more complex, 
but the systematized nature of the visual anesthesia 
remains. TLls anesthesia, aside from the sense involved, 
plainly differs from that produced in the forefinger. In 
the latter experiment there was no selection of the percep- 
tions to be included in the anesthesia, but the loss of 
sensation existed impartially for stimuli coming from 
whatsoever source. 

Anesthesia (whether visual, tactile, auditory, etc.) for 
particular objects, without loss of perception for objects in 
general, has been termed systematized anesthesia by Binet 
and F^rd, because there is a failure to perceive a particular 
system of sensory images. This system may include all 
visual, tactile, and auditory impressions coming from one 
particular object. Thus, a person may not see a particular 
individual in a room, while conscious of all others present. 
In such a case the affected subject may not hear this indi- 
vidual's voice, or feel his touch. He is blind, deaf, and 
insensible to every impression coming from him, but sees, 
hears, feels every one else. 

Bernheim has given to this condition the name negative 
hallucination^ because it is an inability to perceive some- 
thing that exists, as opposed to positive hallucination 
which is the perception of something that does not exist. 

The phenomenon has been extensively studied, and has 
been the subject of a great deal of discussion. The com- 


mon mode of producing it is to suggest to a person while 
in hypnosis that he will not perceive such and such objects, 
persons, etc., after waking; that is to say, it is produced 
by a post-hypnotic suggestion. Another method devised 
by Janet is by the principle of abstraction. But Miss 
Beauchamp was neither hypnotized nor put into a condi- 
tion of abstraction. She was in her normal waking state, 
and was the object of suggestion only. 

The psychological principle underlying systematized 
anesthesia has been clearly determined by Janet, Binet, 
F^r^, and others, though many of the details of the pro- 
cess remain to be worked out. The principle is that of 
dissociation of the personal consciousness. This is the 
main defect in both local and systematized anesthesia 
when effected by suggestion. There is not real blindness, 
deafness, etc. The subject does subconsciously see, hear, 
and feel ; but there is a failure of personal perception ; that 
is, the personal ego does not synthesize these sub-conscious 
sensations with itself. In other words, there is a dissocia- 
tion and doubling of consciousness, the dissociated sensa- 
tions being parted from the main current of consciousness 
and left to form a little isolated consciousness of their own. 
The sensations, however, really arise and are not sup- 
pressed. Indeed, paradoxical as it may seem, it is possi- 
ble to demonstrate by various devices that, for instance, 
objects for which a subject is blind are really seen in order 
that he should not see them. For this purpose I may 
quote some observations of M. Binet: ^ 

" From ten cards that were exactly alike I selected one and 
showed it to the somnambulist, and suggested to her that she 
would not see it when she awoke, but that she would see and 
recognize all the others. When she awoke I gave her the ten 
cards ; she took them all, excepting the one that we had shown 

1 " Alterations of Personality " ; translated by Helen Green Baldwin, 1896 ; 
pp. 301, 303. 


her during the somnambulistic state — the one I had made 
invisible by suggestion. 

" How, we may ask, is it possible for the subject to carry out 
so complicated a suggestion? How does it come about that he 
does not confuse the invisible card with the others ? It must be 
that he recognizes it. If he did not recognize it he would not 
refuse to see it. Whence this apparently paradoxical conclu- 
sion — that the subject must recognize the invisible object in 
order not to see it! 

"The necessity for this process of perception, comparison, 
and recognition may be easily shown, for when the cards are 
too much alike they are often confused — the more frequently 
if only a corner of the cards is shown. The subject sees the 
card so clearly that if the suggestion is given him not to see 
the particular card on which the word ' invisible ' is written 
when he wakes, it may be perfectly carried out, notwithstand- 
ing the apparent contradiction that this suggestion contains. 
. . . But there is more. The invisible object is perceived and 
recognized. What happens next? Once perception and recog- 
tion have occurred we might suppose that the subject then for- 
gets again, that he becomes absolutely blind and deaf, and that 
his anesthesia is now complete. But this is not at all the case. 
The perception of the object continues, only it now operates 

Janet succeeded in proving the persistence of subcon- 
scious perceptions, and therefore the dissociation of per- 
sonality, in a more precise way; that is, by making the 
two consciousnesses reveal themselves simultaneously and 
exhibit parallel activity. For convenience we will let M. 
Binet describe Janet's method : 

" The methods employed to demonstrate the second con- 
sciousness are various, but the simplest and most direct is that 
of distraction. I have already said so much on the subject that 
it is needless to dwell upon it again at length. Only let us re- 
member that the subject's attention is concentrated upon one 
thing — for example, by making him chat with another person 
— and while he is in this state of distraction some one speaks 


to him in a low voice, and arranges with him that he shall an- 
swer questions in writing. In this way his personality is 
divided. There is a consciousness that talks with the first 
questioner, and another consciousness that exchanges ideas 
with the second. By this method the experimenter may be- 
come acquainted with the second consciousness, ascertain its 
powers, and know in particular how much of the external 
world it perceives. If this is carried on after the subject 
has received a suggestion of systematized anesthesia, it may 
be easily seen whether the forbidden perception has taken 
place in the second consciousness, and whether the second 
personality is able to describe an object in minute detail 
which to the first consciousness, the one that speaks, is quite 

' ' M. Janet made this observation by applying the suggestion 
of anesthesia to an object lying in a collection of similar ob- 
jects. This kind of experiment is most instructive, since it 
shows better than others how complicated a mechanism sys- 
tematized anesthesia involves. Here, for example, is a subject 
in a state of somnambulism to whom five white cards are shown, 
two of which are marked by a little cross. He is ordered when 
he awakes no longer to see the cards marked with the cross. 
Although the subject — that is to say, his principal personality 
— obeys the suggestion, and on awaking only sees the three 
white cards, the second personality behaves quite differently. 
If it is spoken to in a low voice and asked to describe what he 
is holding, it replies that there are two cards marked with a lit- 
tle cross. The same test may be repeated by substituting for 
the cross more complicated guiding marks which require calcu- 
lation to be recognized. For example, one might suggest to 
the subject not to see the squares of paper that have an even 
number or a multiple of six upon them, etc. The result of 
these experiments is exactly the same as in the preceding cases, 
although the second consciousness cannot take in at a single 
glance and recognize the card which the other consciousness 
ought not to see. This proves to us that the second conscious- 
ness may perform an action requiring reasoning. Besides, the 
experiments have been varied in a thousand ways, and very 
nearly the same result has always been obtained." 


But though the lost perceptions in negative hallucina- 
tions are dissociated and subconscious, there is much ob- 
scurity regarding the details of the process. Recognition 
of the object is necessary for dissociation; but who or 
what first recognizes it? Does the personal consciousness 
first recognize the marked card ? If so, why is the card 
not seen and remembered by it ? Is the marked card first 
seen subconsciously ? If so, then dissociation occui*s before 
perception, though the latter appears to determine the 
former. The question is an intricate one, and it is un- 
necessary for us to go into it here. It is probable that 
we must have a more complete understanding of the 
mechanism of normal perception before that of systema- 
tized anesthesia can be fully understood. 

Returning to the experiments with Miss Beauchamp, it 
was easy to demonstrate that the psychological mechanism 
of the local and systematized anesthesia was the same as 
that which has just been described. The only difference 
was in the device employed to dissociate the sensory im- 
pressions. In Janet's experiments the dissociation was 
effected by a suggestion given in the unstable state of 
hypnosis; in Miss Beauchamp's case by one given in the 
waking state. It required only a simple experiment to 
prove that the pin pricks were really felt, and the metal 
rod really seen, though not by the personal consciousness 
of Miss Beauchamp. 

To prove this she was hypnotized and changed at once 
to B II. The hypnotic self, when questioned, was able 
to tell how many times the finger had been pricked, and 
whether it had been touched, stroked, or bent. She could 
also describe, down to the slightest detail, the various 
performances with the rod, when Miss Beauchamp failed 
to see it. Inasmuch as the lost sensory impressions were 
now remembered in hypnosis, they must have been per- 
ceived, in spite of the fact that Miss Beauchamp had not 


felt or seen the respective stimuli. This means that the 
perceptions must have remained subconscious,^ that is, 
dissociated from the personal perception. 

But here another question arises, one to which very- 
little attention has been given, though it is of great 
importance in solving the problem of the limits of the 
subconscious, the most important of present psychological 
problems. What sort of consciousness perceived these 
subconscious sensations? Or can it be said that any 
consciousness that can be called a personality perceived 
them? 2 That is to say, technically speaking, were they 
perceived at all ? Were they not simply isolated, discrete 
sensory impressions? Though B II remembered them, it 
could not have been she who perceived them, for this 
hypnotic self does not persist as such after waking. But 
if B II did not as a personality perceive the sensations 
how could she remember them? 

The problem seems a paradox, but the answer is simple. 
The psychological conditions present were fundamentally 
the same as those which exist in hysterical anesthesia. 
Whatever the process, the suggestion given, not to feel 
the pin pricks and not to see the rod, had produced, 
directly or indirectly, a dissociation, not an inhibition, of 
consciousness. The sensory impressions from the fore- 
finger were no longer synthesized with (and therefore had 
become split off from), the personal consciousness, that 
great group of perceptions and memories which at any 
given moment makes up the ego or pereonality. These 
tactile sensations, then, existed in a dissociated state, and 

1 The point may be raised whether these perceptions could have formed 
part of the subconsciousness Chris. This is not the place to enter into such 
questions. The principle of dissociation remains the same whatever tho 
answer. It may be said, however, that subconscious Chris was totally an- 
esthetic for tactile sensations, but could see and hear what Miss Beauchamp 
was blind and deaf to. 

2 This question will be discussed at length in Part III. 


to this extent there was a doublmg of consciousness. The 
systematized blindness for the metal rod was of the same 
character. On the one hand there was the main personal 
consciousness, and on the other the concomitant dissoci- 
ated sensations. Now, when Miss Beauchamp was put 
into the hypnotic state, itself a condition of dissociation, 
the memorial images of the previously dissociated pricks of 
the forefinger became at once synthesized with a personal 
consciousness, and that consciousness the hypnotic one, 
B II, which thereby remembered them. It was the same 
for the visual memories of the metal rod. 

This does not mean — contrary to the assumption of 
many writers — that the hypnotic state persists as a whole 
or in large part, subconsciously, as a mysterious " hidden 
self," after the subject wakes. It seems to me that this 
has too often been thoughtlessly assumed to be the case. 
This erroneous assumption has been based on the two 
fundamental facts that, first, the hypnotic self remem- 
bers dissociated perceptions ; and second, after waking, by 
suitable devices (automatic writing, abstraction, etc.) sub- 
conscious responses can be obtained from an intelligence 
which can be identified in part with that of the previous 
hypnotic state. I shall hope, at the proper time, to show 
that the latter phenomena are largely artifacts. 

All that tlie experimental facts of anesthesia due to dis- 
sociation allow us to infer is that the memory of the 
previously isolated subconscious perceptions becomes syn- 
thesized with the personality when the subject is thrown 
into hypnosis, and (it may be) becomes dissociated again 
when the subject is awakened. The synthesizing process 
is the same as when, in hysterical amnesias, lost memories 
are regained. Here, too, as soon as the synthesis takes 
place the personality remembers the previously forgotten 
experiences as its own, as if it had itself experienced them. 
Thus Fanny S., a subject of mine, is thrown into an hyster- 


ical epileptoid crisis by an emotion. In this state the per- 
sonal consciousness is extremely disintegrated and convul- 
sive phenomena are manifested. On coming out of this 
crisis she has no memory of what occurred during its con- 
tinuance. Later, this amnesia is dispelled by suggestion, 
and she remembers everything that has been said and done ; 
but she remembers everything as her own experience. The 
same is true of another subject, S. B — w, who similarly 
remembers the experiences of her epileptoid attack as her 
own. Likewise in alternating personalities, as we shall 
see, when the memories of two personalities are amalga- 
mated the resulting personality remembers the lost experi- 
ences as its own, as does any one who recovers forgotten 
memories. So with anesthesia, when in hypnosis the 
synthesis of the previously dissociated tactile and other 
sensations with the hypnotic consciousness takes place, the 
latter remembers them as its own. 

The principle of dissociation of the mind is very impor- 
tant. Only by thoroughly grasping it can one understand 
multiple personality and other phenomena of abnormal 
psychology. It underlies the great psychosis hysteria, as 
well as many manifestations of normal life, like absent- 
mindedness, hypnosis, sleep, dreams, visions, etc. Any 
extended exposition of the principle must be postponed 
until the theory of this case is considered, but it is impor- 
tant that the student should be familiar with the data upon 
which the psycho-physiological law rests. 

The mind may be disintegrated in all sorts of ways. It 
may be divided, subdivided, and still further subdivided. 
The lines of cleavage may run in all sorts of directions, 
producing various sorts of combinations of systems of 
consciousness. All sorts, and many distinct groups of 
swiconscious states, each separate from the other, may 
result. Thus Fanny S. is put into deep hypnosis, a state 
of dissociation. Memories of experiences forgotten in the 


waking state are now recovered. That is, a new combina- 
tion is formed. The subject is now while in hypnosis still 
further disintegrated by dissociating, through suggestion, 
the tactile sensations from the arm. She is told that she 
cannot feel in this arm, and it becomes anesthetic. The 
arm is now pricked four times with a pin, and a pencil 
and coin are placed in the palm of the hand, without the 
subject's being conscious of what is done. To tap the 
dissociated sensation, she is now (while still in hypnosis) 
distracted by being held in conversation by my assistant; 
at the same time I whisper in her ear that she shall make 
as many marks with a pencil as the arm was pricked. 
While conversing, the hand automatically makes four 
marks. The subject is asked to tell verbally what was 
done to the hand. She interjects automatically aloud in 
the midst of her conversation, "You put a pencil and a 
fifty-cent piece in my hand." (Correct.) 

This experiment differs from those quoted by M. Binet, 
in that it was the hypnotic state and not the waking self 
that was disintegrated and that had the systematized 

All these observations represent very simple forms of 
dissociation, but they prepare us to understand the more 
complex forms. 

It will be well in this connection to point out with more 
detail the similarity between these forms of artificially 
induced anesthesia and a pathological condition very fre- 
quently the result of accidents, namely hysterical anesthe- 
sia. The experiments with Miss Beauchamp, I have said, 
consisted in the production by artificial means (suggestion) 
of the same conditions as underlie hysterical anesthesia. 
The anesthesia of hysteria is spontaneous in the sense that 
it is brought about by some accident, emotional shock, or 
other unintentional genetic factor. That this pathological 
form of anesthesia has the same pathology as the experi- 


mentally induced variety has been demonstrated by numer- 
ous observers (Janet, Binet, Prince, Sidis, etc.). The 
following observation by the writer is a good illustration, 
though now somewhat old : ^ 

Mrs. E. B. met with an accident, and as a result had a com- 
plete hysterical anesthesia of the hand. The skin could be 
severely pinched and pricked without any sensation resulting. 
Under proper precautions, I pricked with a pin " the hand sev- 
eral times, then laid gently upon it a pair of small nippers 
with flat surfaces (such as are used in microscopical work) and 
pinched the skin with the same. She did not feel the pricks of 
the pin, nor did she know that anything had been done to her 
hand. She was then hypnotized. While in the trance I asked 
her, ' What did I do to your hand ? ' 

"'You pricked it.' 

" ' How many times? ' 

" 'A good many times, more than twelve.' 

" ' Where did I prick it? Show me.' 

" Patient indicated correctly with her finger the part that had 
been pricked. 

"'What else did I do?' 

" ' You laid something on it.' 


" ' Something long and flat.' 

"'What else did I do?' 

" ' Pinched it.' 

'"With what?' 

' ' ' Something you had in your hand. I don't know what it 

"The patient was then awakened, and the experiment re- 
peated with variations. After being again hypnotized she was 
asked what had been done. 

" ' You pricked my hand.' 

" ' How many times?* 

" ' Eighteen.' 

"'AH at once?' 

1 Boston Medical and Surgical Jonrnal, May 15, 1890; Proceedings of 
the Society for Psychical Research, December, 1898. 


'"No; first five times, then thirteen.' 

" ' What else was done? ' 

" 'You pinched it.' 

" ' How many times ? ' 

" ' Five.' 

' ' ' What did I pinch it with ? ' 

" ' Your fingers.' 

" These answers were all correct." 

Such observations, as well as experimental devices 
vehich allow the subconscious perceptions to be tapped, 
show not only that the tactile sensations, unfelt by the 
hysteric, are really awakened, but that they are dissociated 
from the personal stream of consciousness; that is, they 
become subconscious. Equally important is the fact that 
in certain states of hypnosis the hysteric spontaneously 
recovers the tactile sense in the parts which were previ- 
ously in the waking state anesthetic. Mrs. R., a subject 
with hysterical hemianesthesia, equally with Mrs. E. B., 
when hypnotized feels perfectly in the previously anes- 
thetic areas. Mrs. R., when awake, can feel nothing in 
her right arm. Hypnotize her, and at once she feels the 
lightest touch. Anesthesia has completely disappeared in 
hypnosis. In other words, the dissociated tactile impres- 
sions have become re-synthesized with the personal conscious- 
ness in hypnosis. 

Observations of this kind enable us fully to understand 
that the localized and systematized anesthesias produced 
by suggestion in Miss Beauchamp were due to dissociation, 
and were identical with hysterical phenomena. A sugges- 
tibility of this degree would necessarily mean instability 
and lack of resistance to the environment. 

Crystal visions are perhaps in themselves not indicative 
of abnormal instability, still the great ease with which 
they could be induced in Miss Beauchamp could have 
Only this meaning. Considering the part which visions 


have played in history, folklore, and necromancy, artifi- 
cially induced crystal visions acquire considerable interest, 
for they throw light upon the genesis of such hallucina- 
tions. Miss Beauchamp proved to be an excellent subject, 
and a series of experiments was begun May 24. 

It was found possible, by having Miss Beauchamp gaze 
steadfastly at an object, — a glass bulb being used for this 
purpose, — to induce visions, which represented, for the 
most part, scenes in her past life. Some of these past 
experiences, or details of them, had been completely for- 
gotten. But although forgotten by Miss Beauchamp, 
every detail was remembered accurately by Chris, who 
could, in almost every instance, fully explain the vision, 
and recall every incident connected therewith. A com- 
plete study of these visions will be found in Part III, but 
two of them are given here to illustrate this interesting 
phenomenon. The details of the composition of these 
visions are well worth a careful and analytical study. 

When Miss Beauchamp looks into a glass globe she 
does not see the details of her vision as small objects re- 
flected in the glass, but, after a moment or two the globe 
and her surroundings disappear from her consciousness, 
and she sees before her a scene in which she herself is 
present as a spectator. It seems to her that she is a part 
of the scene in which human beings, — herself, perhaps 
one of them, — are enacting parts, as in real life. The 
characters are life-size, and act like living persons. When 
she sees herself as one of the characters of the vision, she 
experiences over again all the emotions and feelings that 
she observes her vision-self experiencing; and these emo- 
tions she exhibits, all-forgetful of her surroundings, to the 
onlooker. This kaleidoscopic play of her feelings is most 
interesting to watch. 

"She appears like one who, at a theatre, is completely ab- 
sorbed by the play, and in that sense is unconscious of sur- 


roundiugs, but not at all in a trance state. Her absorption 
and the exceeding mobility and expression of her face give the 
impression that she is entirely oblivious of all about her, until 
spoken to, but not as one hypnotized ; rather as one who is in- 
tensely absorbed in a scene and has forgotten where she is. 
Every variety of feeling, timidity, surprise, interest, seems to 
be expressed by the play of her features, and at times, . . . 
she seems rather frightened by the uncanniness of what she 

After each experiment Miss Beauchamp was changed to 
Chris, whose more complete memory of the past enabled 
her to give an explanation of many things forgotten by or 
unknown to Miss Beauchamp. After explaining the third 
vision Chris volunteered the following story, telling it 
with great gusto, as a joke on Miss Beauchamp, and 
speaking with such rapidity that it was difficult to follow 
the sequence of events. The language as quoted is sub- 
stantially that of Chris, though condensed. 

" She yesterday received a letter from a photographer. 
She had it in her hand while walking down Washington 
Street, and then put it into her pocket (side pocket of coat) 
where She kept her watch and money (banknotes). As 
She walked along She took out the money and tore it into 
pieces, thinking it was the letter from the photographer. She 
threw the money into the street. As She tore up the money, 
She said to herself, ' I wish they would not write on this bond 
paper.' " 

Chris repeated verbatim, the words of the photographer's 
letter, which informed Miss B. that some photographs 
were ready for delivery. As to the money, there were 
two ten-dollar notes; this, at my demand, Chris counted 
mentally, with some difficulty and concentration of thought. 

* An account of these visions was published in Brain, Winter Number, 
1898 ; Part LXXXIV ; "An experimental study of Visions," from which I 
quote with a few slight verbal alterations. 


The photographer's letter, Chris said, was in "her" pocket 
still, and still believed by "Her" to be money. Chris 
handed it to me. It was folded into a small square, just 
as one often folds banknotes. TJie language of the letter 
was exactly as Chris had quoted it from memory.^ Chris ex- 
plained further that "She" was absentminded, and think- 
ing of something else, when "She" tore up the money. I 
gave Chris the letter, which she put back in her pocket, 
preparatory to my waking Miss Beauchamp. This impish 
personality gleefully remarked upon what a joke it would 
be when "She " found the letter there instead of the bank- 
notes. The heartless, cold-blooded delight which this 
personality found in the loss of the money, — a serious one 
to Miss Beauchamp, — might be shocking to the uninitiated 
spectator. To Chris the whole thing was only a splendid 
practical joke. 

Miss Beauchamp was now awakened. When asked 
whether she did not have some money, and whether she 
had not received a letter from a photographer, she replied 
" Yes ; " but seemed to think my asking these questions 
rather odd. A series of questions brought out the replies 
that she had not the letter with her, having torn it up and 
thrown it away; and that she had the banknotes in her 
pocket. They were two ten-dollar notes. When asked 
to show them to me she put her hand in her pocket and 
brought out instead the photographer's letter. It was 
plain that she received a shock, although she tried not to 
show it. I pressed her to explain where the bills were. 
After searching in vain she insisted that she must have left 
them at home. I remarked that she must have destroyed 
them by mistake instead of the letter, but she refused to 
admit it, though plainly anxious. I pointed out the cir- 
cumstantial evidence, but she could not and would not 
believe it. The loss meant much to her, and she was 

1 Ou several occasiong Chris has exhibited a similar feat of raeniory. 



evidently encouraging herself with a forlorn hope. I then 
said, taking the glass globe, "We will see whether it is 
true. Look in and you will see what you have done." 
At first she saw only indifferent things. Then I said, 
"Think of banknotes, and the feeling of tearing them 
up." Now, to her astonishment, she saw herself walking 
along Washington Street and putting the letter in her 
pocket; then taking out what looked like banknotes (that 
is, green pieces of paper), tearing them into pieces, and 
throwing them into the street. The vision, in all its 
details, corresponded to the account given by Chris. 

The next day Miss Beauchamp reported that she had 
been unable to find the money at home, and that she was 
satisfied of the truth of the vision. In hypnosis, Chris 
now volunteered the further information that Miss Beau- 
champ ("She") was so much upset by the loss of the 
money that in the middle of the night "she" had to get 
up in her sleep, without knowing it, and that "she" had 
taken the remainder of " her " money and hidden it under 
" that floppy thing " on the table. It was now " under a 
red book, a blue book, and that floppy thing " (by this is 
meant either a tablecloth or a folded piece of material). 
"She " knows nothing about it, but thinks "she " has lost 
the money and has none left. Chris does not know how 
much money there is. Miss Beauchamp is now awakened. 
I charge her with the loss of the money, the last of her 
present financial resources. She is reticent, plainly does 
not like my knowing about her finances, and will not 
admit the loss. It is clear that she is anxious, for she 
has discovered that the money is not where she last left 
it, in the bureau drawer. Without further discussion, 
and without disclosing my knowledge^ I presented a glass 
globe to her telling her to think of the money and she 
would see what had become of it. Looking into the 
globe, she saw herself in bed in her room. She then saw 


herself get up, her eyes closed, and walk up and down the 
room; then going to the bureau drawer her vision-self 
took out the money, went to the table, raised the cloth 
with the books, put the money on the table and covered it 
with the cloth, putting the red book and the green book 
on top of it. The vision thus exactly corresponded to the 
statement of Chris. ^ Miss Beauchamp reported at the 
next visit that she had found the money where she saw it 
in the globe. 

The vision of Chris smoking cigarettes has been already 
given. It is interesting, as the hallucination which wells 
up into the mind of the primary personality represents an 
experience of the secondary personality. 

The following experiment (5) is of interest for the rea- 
son that, first, it represents a delirious act; and, second, 
that the explanation given by Chris implies that simulta- 
neously with the delirious consciousness there must have 
existed a second sane consciousness which saw everything 
as it really was, free from delusion of every kind. I see no 
other interpretation. Chris's memory showed differences 
in perceptions, — two different perceptions going on at the 
same time. The vision represents a previous experience 
when Miss Beauchamp was delirious from pneumonia. 

" Miss B. looked again into the globe ; she saw a room with 
a bed in it. There was a figure in the bed; the figure threw off 
the bedclothes and got up. Miss B. exclaimed, ' Why, it is I ! ' 
(Appeared rather frightened at what she saw, but went on to 
describe it, largely in answer to my promptings, such as, ' Go 
on,' ' What do you see? ' etc.) She saw herself walking to and 
fro, up and down the room. Then she climbed on to the win- 
dow sill which is the deep embrasure of a mansard roof. Then 
she climbed outside the window and from the sill looked down 
into the street. It was night — the street lamps were liglited, 

1 Excepting the color of the book, " bhie " or " green." This esca])e(l my 
attention at the time ; perhaps it was blue-green, and looked blue to Chris 
and green to Miss B., or it may be an error on my part. 


there was also the gasliglit in the room. As she looked down 
she felt dizzy. Here Miss li. turned away frightened, saying 
she felt dizzy as if she were standing there. She soon continued. 
She saw her vision-self throw into the street below an inkstand, 
whicli she had just seen herself pick up before climbing on to 
the window sill. Miss B. was again obliged to stop looking 
because of dizziness. After a time she returned to the globe. 
She saw herself go back into the room and walk up and down ; 
tlie door opened and she jumped into bed and lay quiet. Miss 
L. (a friend) entered, went out and returned several times ; 
brought a poultice which she put on Miss B.'s chest ; Miss B. 
herself remaining quiet. Then Miss L. went out and Miss 
B. got up and took the poultice, rolled it up into a little bunch 
and hid it in a corner, putting a towel over it. Here the experi- 
ment ended. ^ 

" Miss B. stated, on being questioned, that she could not re- 
member any incident like the vision, excepting that she recog- 
nized the room as the first one she occupied when she came to 
Boston four or five years ago. It was in the top story of a house 

on Street; she was ill there, and Miss L. took care of her. 

But she did not remember ever having climbed on to the win- 
dow, or having thrown an inkstand, or any of the incidents 
of the vision. She could throw no light on the affair. 

'■^ Deep hypnosis: B III appeared. With great vivacity and 
amusement B III explained the whole scene. ' She ' had pneu- 
monia and was delirious; and 'She' imagined 'She 'was on 
the seashore and was walking up and down the sand. This 
was why ' She ' walked up and down the room, and ' She ' stuck 
her toes in the carpet thinking it was the sand. There were rocks 
there, and the window sill was one of them, and when ' She * 
climbed out upon the window sill ' She ' thought ' She ' was 
climbing upon a rock, and ' She ' took up a stone, as ' She ' 
thought, and threw it into the sea. This was the inkstand that 
' She ' threw into the street. Then when ' She ' took the poul- 
tice and hid it in the corner ' She ' thought ' She * had buried it 
in the sand. Ink had been found in her shoes, but ' She ' had 

1 Miss L., a physician, has confirmed her own part in this scene and the 
general facts of the illuesa as she knew them. Another physician had diag- 
nosed pneumonia. 


not poured ink into her shoes, but her hand shook and ' She ' 
had spilled it into her shoes. Miss L. seeing the inkstains had 
inferred that Miss B. had poured the ink into the shoes, and 
had told Miss B. so. B III was highly amused at all the 
mistakes of Miss B.'s delirium." 

I may point out here that visions belong to the class of 
phenomena known as sensory automatisms. Considerable 
difference of opinion exists regarding their genesis, which 
is unquestionably complex, but they are automatic in that 
while they arise within the field of the personal conscious- 
ness, they come and go entirely independently of personal 
control. It can be experimentally demonstrated that in 
many instances their exciting causes may be in forgotten 
memories and subconscious ideas, which also determine 
the content of the visions. Aside from the question of 
suggestibility, some of these experiments, of which quite 
a number were made, are very instructive from two other 
points of view, namely: in showing first, the distinctive- 
ness of the two coexistent conscious selves, as far at least 
as concerns the separateness of the simultaneous percep- 
tions ; and, second, the greater completeness of the mem- 
ories of Chris /or a certain class of facts. 

This last point, which I have italicized, I am disposed 
to dwell upon here even at the expense of interrupting my 
narrative, as there is danger of erroneously inferring that 
because a person in hypnosis or a secondary self of any 
kind, remembers more completely and fully certain details 
of the past, recalls facts and even lost knowledge, like the 
rudiments of a forgotten language acquired in childhood, 
that therefore the hypnotic self has a wider memory in all 
respects, and is a superior intelligence. There is a certain 
class of facts which a person in hypnosis remembers more 
completely than does the waking self ; but these facts, for 
the most part, are the details of every-day life, which, 
unimportant in themselves, the waking self neglects to 


observe and remember, because occupied at the time in 
profounder thought, in more important reflections which 
necessarily require comparatively abstract ideas. The 
child mind occupies itself with such details, but the adult 
mind neglects them. The child mind, probably, like the 
mind of animals, is occupied with the observation of 
details; if observing a man, for instance, it notes every 
detail of his appearance and movements. The adult 
mind makes an abstraction (relatively speaking) of any 
given man, and weaves this abstraction into a mass of 
thoughts. If this were not so, intellectual accomplish- 
ment would be impossible for the adult. 

But with the adult the minor details of life are not en- 
tirely neglected. They are more or less observed and re- 
corded in an absent-minded sort of way, and as isolated 
perceptions, form what is known as the normal secondary 
consciousness ; that is, they are subconsciously perceived. 
(^Part Ill.y In hypnosis the memories of this secondary 
consciousness are synthesized with the hypnotic self and 
are remembered by it. In this respect a person in hypnosis 
may have a more complete memory than when awake. Then 
again, in hypnosis, certain acquisitions, like a forgotten 
language, may be more or less remembered, and hundreds 
of forgotten experiences of the past — forgotten by the 
waking self — may become synthesized with the hypnotic 
self and be recalled, just as forgotten experiences are re- 
produced in dreams. But the accumulated stores of learn- 
ing, the laborious product of burning the midnight oil, the 
expert knowledge of the linguist, of the scientist, the phy- 
sician, the lawyer, as well as the wisdom drawn from the 
past experiences of the ordinary man, — the memory for all 
this is not spontaneously revived and made use of by the 
so-called hypnotic self ^ as it is by the unmutilated con- 

* The term " hypnotic self " is only a convenient expression for a hypno- 
tized person, or a person in hi/pnosis. There is no special hypnotic self, 


sciousness of the normal waking person. Above all, the 
accumulated knowledge of the past is not at the command 
of the hypnotic self for deliberate judgment, for the de- 
termination of conduct, and the expression of the will. 
Hence, largely, the passiveness of the hypnotic mind. To 
maintain the contrary is to maintain in principle that a 
dissociated mind is as good as a normal one. But to return 
to our visions : 

Miss Beauchamp occasionally had spontaneous visions, 
similar to those experimentally induced. These played 
an important part in her career. Sometimes a vision seen 
by one personality represented scenes enacted by another 
(and therefore unknown to the former), as in the vision of 
Chris smoking the cigarettes. Sometimes visions were 
intentionally induced by me for the purpose of acquiring 
information about obscure events, and sometimes one of 
the personalities (excepting Chris, who could see nothing, 
as she complained) would make use of the same device 
for the same purpose. These phenomena, so far as I feel 
at liberty to use them, will be described in the course of 
this narrative. 

The following incident, which occurred May 18, illus- 
trates what has been said about the ease with which 
sensory impressions revived within her emotions and ideas 
that had become associated by some event of the past. It 
has been stated in the introduction that Miss Beauchamp 
had been in the habit from time to time of going into som- 
nambulistic or trance-like states lasting a few moments. 
This was first learned about this time when she reported 
that while crossing the Public Gardens, headed for Park 
Square, an attack of this kind came on; when she came 
to herself she found that she was in a different part of the 
Gardens, and walking in an opposite direction. 

On the night of the eighteenth, being at the time in 


good physical health, while brushing her hair preparatory 
to going to bed, Miss Beauehamp fell into a trance. 
When she awoke she found herself sitting in a chair. 
The clock was striking nine when she went into the 
trance, and it was half-past nine when she awoke. It 
seemed certain that the cause of this trance state must 
have been psychical; something like subconscious ideas, 
or, if not, at least certain remembrances of past events, 
connected perhaps with a previous nervous shock, and 
now awakened by an association of some sort. Investi- 
gation revealed the following : Just before going into the 
trance she found herself thinking of an old girl friend. 
How she came to be thinking of this friend she did not 
know, but this girl once gave her a severe nervous shock, 
and she has noticed that the occasion of going into trances of 
late years almost always has been while thinking of this girl, 
or while hearing certain music, or the sound of the wind, 
or while feeling the air blowing on her face, and other 
sensations, all of which are associated with this friend. 
It came about originally in this way: A long time ago, 
while in church and while the organist was playing the 
Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Oratorio, this friend 
leaned toward her and told her something that gave her a 
severe shock, — much as if she had told her the news of 
some one's death. At the time she smelled the odor of 
incense in the church, heard the wind blowing through 
the open window, and felt it on her face. All this she 
was distinctly conscious of at the time, as well as of the 
neiTOUs shock. Then she remembered nothing more for 
a few minutes. Now anything that recalls this girl, or 
the scene in church to her mind, — such as the Hallelujah 
Chorus, the smell of incense, the sound. of the wind, or 
the wind blowing on her face, — is apt to send her into a 
trance. But, as has just been said, what made her think 
of the girl on this occasion she does not remember. What 


Miss Beauchamp was told in church concerned an old 
friend, one of whom we shall hear more, and whom we 
have agreed to call "William Jones." This person, unin- 
tentionally, and perhaps all unconsciously, — who shall 
say ? — has played an important part in the pathological 
drama of Miss Beauchamp's life. In the frequent hunts 
for the hystero-genetic influences which induced the vari- 
ous hysterical accidents, it too often happened that the 
exciting cause was found, as in this incident, to be past 
and present associations which acquired in her mind an 
intensity characteristic of hysteria. 

After recounting this experience. Miss Beauchamp was 
hypnotized. B II then supplied the missing link in the 
chain of events. The window was open while Miss 
Beauchamp was brushing her hair, and the air blew upon 
her face just as it had done long before in church. The 
feeling of the air recalled the girl and the scene in church ; 
then she went into a trance just as she had when she re- 
ceived the shock. In quest of further evidence I brought 
Chris, who in tvirn corroborated, in her own contemptuous 
way, all that the other two had said. 

" What were you doing at the time? " I asked. 

"What was I doing? /wasn't doing anything. She 
was brushing her hair. She was thinking about school, 
when the wind began to blow outdoors. I, too, heard it 
and felt it. The window was open; the air blew on her 
face, and then she began thinking of church; and the 
music, the Hallelujah Chorus, came ; and she went off to 
sleep, and she looked very silly, and she settled down so 
[illustrating contemptuously]." 

Chris also corroborated everything that Miss Beauchamp 
had said in her narrative of the original episode, stating 
that whenever either Miss Beauchamp or herself heard 
that peculiar sound of the wind, the scene in church came 
back to them, no matter where they might be. Chris was 


reminded of it by the sound, as well as Miss Beauchamp. 
"' She' heard the music, and I heard it, too," Chris ex- 
plained. " When ' she ' heard it last night ' she ' saw the 
whole thing over again, and ' she ' wanted to sit down and 
cry, but ' she ' would n't. ' She ' just sat in the chair and 
looked like a fool. ' She ' sat down, and dropped back, 
and did so — [illustrates position], 'Her' eyes were not 

" What were you doing ? " 

"I was meditating." 

"What about?" 

"How silly ' she ' looked." 

Chris could not say what her other self's psychical state 
was while in the trance, excepting that she denied it was 
herself (Chris). Later investigations seemed to show that 
at such times it was neither of the other selves; that is to 
say, the spontaneous somnambulistic conditioii is a state 
by itself. 

As will appear in the course of this biography, a sugges- 
tibility of the degree indicated by these observations would 
necessarily also mean so great an instability and lack of 
resistance to the environment that ideas, feelings, and 
emotions would acquire such a degree of fixity and inten- 
sity that they would tend from moment to moment to 
dominate a person's life. Therefore Miss Beauchamp, 
like many other people with the hysterical temperament, 
would tend to become the slave of her own mind. That 
instability and suggestibility should persist, no matter how 
well she might be physically, was difficult to understand ; 
for during all this time there was no reason to suspect 
that Miss Beauchamp was not what might be called, with- 
out using particularly figurative language, a real person; 
a complete and normal personality, excepting so far as she 
was affected by physical infirmities. It was not until a 
year later that the secret leaked out. 



MISS Beauchamp's life at this time was a quiet one. 
She had left college to come to Boston for medical 
treatment; and when not in the consulting room, where 
many hours a week were occupied, she passed her time 
between her books, her friends, and pursuing a hygienic 
regime. It must be borne in mind that as yet she had 
no knowledge whatsoever of the existence of any second 
self, or of any consciousness beyond her own waking one. 
Everything she said and did as B II, and as Chris, was 
kept strictly from her. Her knowledge was limited to the 
fact that she went to sleep by command and waked up 
again. She was therefore in complete ignorance of her sub- 
conscious mental life, and of the fact that there was reason 
to suspect that there were within her trains of thought 
entirely out of harmony with her waking consciousness. 
It will be remembered that both B II and Chris used 
to try to rub their closed eyelids with the hands, though, 
as far as possible, I prevented both from doing this, often 
using physical force. B II never could explain why she 
did it ; but Chris, speaking for herself, always said up and 
down from the first that it was her deliberate purpose to 
get her eyes open, and even went so far as to threaten in- 
subordination, insisting that she would see, and that she 
"had a right to see." She complained rather piteously 
that it was not fair Miss Beauchamp should be allowed to 
see, while she was forbidden. 


So sometimes when B II rubbed her eyelids, as Chiis 
later confessed, it was not B II herself who did it but 
Chris, "inside," as it were, who took B II's hands and 
rubbed her eyes. At such times Chris thought that if her 
eyes were opened (the joint eyes of B II and hei-self), she 
(Chi-is) would be able to see, and thereby would awake in 
the place of B II. It was not surprising, then, that at such 
times B II did not know why she rubbed her eyes, for it 
was another self, Chris, who was doing it. That all this 
is true there can be no doubt ; especially as it was noted 
at a later period that whenever Chris Avanted " to come " 
while Miss Beauchamp was in hypnosis, the hands used to 
rub the closed eyelids (the eyelids of B II), and, unless 
forcibly prevented, the eyes would open and Chris would 
appear upon the scene. As the meaning of this device to 
get the eyes open early became manifest, neither B II nor 
Chris, as has already been stated, was permitted to make 
use of it. I felt it to be unwise that either of these selves, 
and particularly Chris, should be allowed to form inde- 
pendent groups of mental experiences and thereby chains 
of memories, thinking that if such should take place either 
self might become educated into an independent person- 
ality. Inasmuch as our visual perceptions form the largest 
and perhaps the most important part of our sensory ex- 
periences, it seemed probable that the possession of the 
visual apparatus would tend to enable the second person- 
ality to acquire a large degree of independence. Neither 
B II nor any of the hypnotic states proper has ever been 
allowed to open the eyes in hypnosis, to the present day. 
As to Chris, such a precaution was felt to be particularly 
important, for as long as her eyes were kept closed, her 
independent activity would be limited and she could be kept 
under control. It was also sought to confine lier hypnotic 
experiences within the naiTowest limits compatible with 
therapeutic ends. All attempts, however, to limit the mental 


experiences of Chris were hopeless. She proved herself 
made of different stuff, and, as it transpired, had an exist- 
ence which, if her own story is to be believed, long ante- 
dated her first appearance in my presence. 

To explain still further this device for getting the eyes 
open, it may be stated here, although it is anticipating 
somewhat, that, according to the testimony of Chris, the 
mechanical device of itself alone was without effect. Be- 
sides rubbing her eyes she was obliged to " will " to come. 
" Willing," as a part of her conscious processes, plays a 
very prominent part in the psychological phenomena mani- 
fested by this personality, particularly in those which are 
the effect of her influence upon the others. 

" How did you make her do this or that ? " I frequently 

" I just ' willed,' " was the reply. 

In passing I may also call attention to the value of the 
information which Chris as a subconscious personality was 
able to give concerning many phenomena which otherwise 
would have been inexplicable, or, apparently, insignificant. 
Such information, of course, rests largely, as in the in- 
stance of willing, upon the statement of Chris, and is not 
open to objective verification, as must often be the case 
when we have to do with subjective phenomena. But I 
believe that the statements of Miss Beauchamp and Cliris, 
as far as they concern facts of which they have knowledge, 
— such, for example, as their own acts or thoughts and 
feelings, — are as reliable as any statement based on per- 
sonal experience or introspective knowledge can be. 
Some of the statements of this sort could to a certain ex- 
tent be verified. Over and over again, at a later period, I 
have seen B II while convening, lier face expressive of 
sadness and weariness, rub her eyelids in an unaccountable 
way, until of a sudden, Chris, laughing and gay, would 
burst out of her chrysalis into her butterfly existence. The 


one phenomenon would follow the other so regularly that 
it is dull scepticism to disbelieve the assertions of Chris 
that it was she who rubbed Miss Beauchamp's eyelids and 
" willed " to come. As has just been said, B II did not 
know at such times why she rubbed her eyes ; she felt 
herself impelled to do it. Her actions, then, being ac- 
complished by another consciousness, were further ex- 
amples of subconscious automatic movements. 

At other times Chris would disclaim all responsibility 
for the act, saying that it was B II herself who did it, 
and that she, Chris, did not know the reason for it. The 
explanation was found in the fact that at such times B 
II complained that her eyes " stung " and " burned," and 
she felt that she must rub them to relieve the sensation, 
which was intense. This sensation, it was discovered, was 
due to the effect of " willing " by Chris. Although she 
did not make use of B II's hands, yet at such times she 
" willed " the eyelids to open. This sensory phenomenon 
is an association phenomenon, or what is known as 
akinesia algera, — the association of pain with voluntary 
movements. It is probably similar to what is observed in 
eye-strain, when, as a result of strong muscular effort to 
use the eyes, one or another form of paresthesia is ex- 
perienced. At such times B II was simply trying to re- 
lieve the disagreeable feelings caused by Chris's " willing " 
to control the muscles of the eyelids. 

I dwell upon these facts, longer than would seem to 
be called for, at the risk of tiring the reader, for two 
reasons : first, because, as will presently appear, tliey play 
an important part in the development of the case and 
enable us to undei-stand how Chris finally succeeded in 
getting her liberty ; and, second, because from one point 
of view they are of great significance, namely, as evidence 
of the coexistence of two separate and distinct conscious- 
nesses. If it be true, while Miss Beauchamp or B II is 


conversing on one subject, some other consciousness is 
using the hands and " willing " something entirely outside 
the field of consciousness of the first, and unknown to the 
first, there must be two distinct, separate, and coexisting 
trains of thought. 

To return to our story ; Miss Beauchamp, in June, had 
gotten into a nervous condition again, owing to various 
outside matters which disturbed her. Without going 
into these in detail, it is sufficient to say that, among 
other troubles, she brooded over the fact that she was 
not allowed to go back to college, and that certain emo- 
tions of the past had been revived. A certain episode 
which had recently occurred (as was afterwards learned) 
had brought back the recollections and associations of a 
painful event which had once given her a profound 
shock. This and other things threw her again into a 
nervous condition, accompanied by insomnia. All this 
was hard on Miss Beauchamp, but the conditions were 
propitious for Chris. 

One day toward the end of June Miss Beauchamp was 
sitting by the open window reading. She fell into what 
Chris afterward called a half " mooning " state. She would 
read a bit, then look out of the window and think ; then 
turn to her book and again read. Thus she would alter- 
nately read and dream, — day-dreaming, it was. All her 
life she had been in the habit of falling into these states of 
abstraction (for such they were), when she lived in the 
clouds. Here was Chris's opportunity. The physical and 
mental conditions were ripe. Chris was not one to let 
such a golden chance slip by. So while Miss Beaucliani[) 
was dreaming in her chair, Chris took both her hands, — 
Miss Beauchamp's hands, — rubbed her eyes, and "willed"; 
then, for the moment, Miss Beauchamp disappeared and 
" Sally " came, mistress of herself, and, for the first time, 
able to see. From this time on, we shall call Chris by the 


name of Sally; for though it was much later tliat Chris 
took the name, the complete independent existence of this 
personality dates from this event. 

Sally had gotten her eyes open at last, and with the 
opening of her eyes she may be said to have been truly 
born into this world, though she claimed to have really 
existed before. Sally was delighted with her success, so 
she must celebrate her birthday by smoking two cigarettes.^ 
Her belief in the naughtiness of it all, and a consciousness 
of the displeasure which it would occasion Miss Beauchamp, 
added to her enjoyment. But her delight did not last long. 
She became frightened. The thought came to her that 
perhaps Miss Beauchamp might be "dead," and would 
never come back ; perhaps she could not bring her back. 
What would she do then ! She became alarmed at the 
thought. She knew that she did not know how to wake 
up Miss Beauchamp, and, as she realized her inability, 
her fright increased and she did not want to stay. An 
idea came to her. She remembered that sometimes I used 
to employ a strong Faradic battery to wake Miss Beau- 
champ when she (Chris) would not go at command.^ So 
Sally took the lighted cigarette, burned her arm sharply, 
and Miss Beauchamp woke up. 

. The following letter (A), unfinished, written by Sally to 
me, as well as the second (B), written to "William Jones," 
gives a better glimpse into her mind. The first is a tri- 
umphant Hallelujah, for at last she had gotten her eyes 
open. This was written immediately after the event. The 
second is of later date, probably some time in the next week. 


" My dear Dr. Prince, — Rejoice with me and be exceed- 
ing glad, for I am on the top of the heap at last ! Never again 

' Previously given her by me. 

2 This probably acted by awakeuing the lost tactile feelings belonging to 
B I and which Sally did not possess (Chap. IX). 


shall I be squeezed ^ — never again be bored ! Ah, how good 
it is ! and you — unkind — refused it to me. Hereafter I know 
you not — you shall be as " 


[To W. J.] ' ' To-morrow, mio caro amico, we go to the 
shore for the day. Please stop at P. & S.'s^ first and then 
meet me at the Union Station at tea. 

" As always," 

Miss Beauchamp had captured these letters and sent 
them to me. If one compares them with the following 
extracts from her own letter, in which they were enclosed, 
the difference in personalities is strikingly shown : 

" Dear Dr. Prince, — I do really think that, like those poor 
people of old, I must be possessed of devils. . . . 

All this is to explain my sending you the enclosed notes. 
. . . To-day my sin consisted in telling but half the truth, as 
you will see by looking at the notes, one of which [(A)] is very 
absurd, and wholly without meaning, as I told you. The other 
[(B)], as I did not tell you, is apparently a perfectly natural 
note. But it is not natural or like me at all. I do wish 
you would believe me, Dr. Prince. I know you won't. It is 
not because the note is wicked that I disclaim it. . . . You 
must know that, from what I have told you of my life. I want 
you to believe me, because I am frightened, and afraid of my- 
self if such things are liable to occur at any time. I knoio that 
these two last attacks are different from any I have ever had. 
It is as though I were filled with the spirit of mischief incar- 
nate. . . . 

"And now, hoping most sincerely that you will forgive me, 
and won't be very cross because I have troubled you with this 
appeal, 1 remain, etc." 

1 This was a term invented by Sail}- to describe a peculiar psycliical state 
of some importance. In this state she lost tlie power to inflnence Miss B. or 
to "come" herself. She used to say she felt "squeezed." I uever could get 
any more precise explanation of her mental condition. 

* A confectioner. 



During the next ten days or so Sally used to come and 
go, more or less, but she could not always do it when she 
wanted to. It depended largely upon Miss Beauchamp's 
condition of health, and particularly upon a condition of 
fatigue which was necessary. The better Miss Beau- 
champ^s^ health, the more deeply and strongly was Sally 
imprisoned, — " squeezed," to use her expression. 

Things soon came to a climax. On Thursday, June 23, 
Miss Beaucharap, in a condition of some alarm, telephoned 
that she had lost ten hours after leaving my office the pre- 
ceding afternoon. When she came to heraelf she found in 
her hand a lighted cigarette which had burned her finger, 
and, apparently, waked her up. Her dress and clothing 
were dusty, as if she had returned from a walk in the 
country. She was tired and worn out. The next day, 
Friday, she reported that not only had she again gone into 
a trance, but that she had also lost some money in an unac- 
countable way. On the following morning I received this 
note, in which the hand of Sally was immistakable : 

"Dear Dr. Prince, — I wish you would not be so awfully 
wrathy and superior — it spoils half my fun — and Jones's an- 
ger, if it were not too amusing, would quite spoil the other half. 
It is unkind of you to desert me, and to refuse to uphold the 
new order of things. You reduce me to one small victim, who 
is both tiresome and absurd. Please be amiabUy and you shall 
have half the P. & S. — which is an abbreviation for something 
very nice indeed. Also I will tell you many things good for 
you to know and useful, but not here, for you say ' dam * (I 
have heard you, my child) both to notes and telephone. So I 
make this most brief, that you may favorably hear my petition. 
Miss Beauchamp does not go to Winchester to-night * — she is 
much more useful here and infinitely more entertaining.. I shall 
take her walking again presently. It is so good for her, don't 
you think so? And she goes very fast for me. 

" Please be nice, and believe me, 

"Your obdt. seiTt.," 
* She had an engagement to pay a visit to a friend in Winchester. 


Hastening to visit her, I found Miss Beauchamp in her 
room in a wretched condition of extreme fatigue, going 
easily and spontaneously from time to time into a trance. 
She could not remember anything about her whereabouts 
since her visit to my office the preceding afternoon, or 
where she had passed the night, although from the testi- 
mony of the servant she had been at home. Presently 
going into one of the spontaneous trances she became 
Sally, who now gave a full explanation of her doings. 
Sally had been at home, but had gone the day before to 
the confectioner's (P. & S.'s) and bought a box of candy, 
spending about two dollars (the empty box was on the 
floor) ; then she had had a royal lunch out of Miss Beau- 
champ's exchequer, but had had the mishap to lose quite a 
sum of money by its being blown away while she was on 
an electric street-car. 

After administering a judicious lecture to Sally, with 
suggestions, Miss Beauchamp was awakened, apparently in 
good condition, so much so that she refused to go to the 
hospital ; but in the evening a messenger brought a note in 
which was hastily scrawled the following : 

" Please let me go to the hospital, and at once. I am awfully 

On the way to the hospital she kept relapsing into trance 
states, the exact character of which it was not easy to de- 
termine. Her stay in the hospital, where she came under 
the care of Dr. Y., lasted about ten days. There an amus- 
ing thing happened. It was reported to me that Miss 
Beauchamp was recovering rapidly and was free from in- 
somnia. Feeling pleased with the rapid improvement un- 
der ray brother practitioner's charge, I hastened to make her 
a visit. As I walked into the room I was astonished to see 
not Miss Beauchamp, but Sally, stuttering and merry as a 
grig, and having a delightful time impersonating her other 


self. It came to light that Sally had conceived the idea 
that as she herself was free from ailments, if she could im- 
personate Miss Beauchamp she would be considered well, 
and so escape from the hospital and go to Europe, as had 
been previously planned. So, when the night nurse looked 
in upon her, Sally was always found " asleep " ; the day 
nurse had an equally good report to make, and Miss Beau- 
champ was soon, in spite of my warnings, discharged 
" well." A few days after this I caught Sally just in time, 
on the verge of her departure for Europe, and changed her, 
against her will,^ to Miss Beauchamp, who was astounded 

1 The scene which took place on this occasion illustrates very well Sally's 
attitnde towards the world in general and towards her superior self. Though 
I recognized her at once, she pretended to be Miss Beauchamp, copying her 
air, her mode of speech, and mood. But finally when appealed to for her 
confidence she confessed all, saying that she did not want to be in her normal 
state ; she enjoyed life much more as she was ; she wanted to go to Europe 
and have a good time ; and she positively refused to let Miss Beauchamp be 
awakened. Arguments, expostulations, even threats were of no avail. She 
did not want to be the otheiyone, of whom she spoke in contempt. She simply 
defied me to wake Miss Beauchamp, and in fact every attempt ou my part 
was unsuccessful. Finally wo compromised : she agreed to allow Miss Beau- 
champ to be awakened, and I, on my part, agreed (may the ruse be pardoned !) 
that Sally should come again wlien Miss Beauchamp was well. She then ex- 
plained that verbal suggestion was not sufficient : I must imitate the cigarette 
burning to awaken her. Taking the hint, a strong electric battery was em- 
ployed to do the work, and Miss Beauchamp awoke, frightened at finding 
herself where she was. 

The following letter, written while in the hospital, is interesting psycho- 
logically; it sliows that Sally could, at times at least, realize responsibilities 
and had a certain fulness of cliaracter. I had threatened Sally that if she 
did not behave, did not cease writing to Jones, etc., etc., I should report her 
conduct to Mrs. X. This brought from Sally the following letter : 

" Dear Dr. Prince, — You simply mnst not spring Mrs. X. on me now, 
for I too care for her more than for all else. Indeed you must not. I will 
promise you anything, and I have kept my promises. I would take the most 
solemn oath that that is true. I have never broken but one, and although 
that one seems to affect you more than any other I did it only because you 
first broke yours, and because I wanted to see if it were possible for me to do 
certain things. I can do them, but alas, I cannot undo them. I think you 
can. I am sure you can if I do not oppose you. Don't misunderstand me 
and think that I am sorry or ashameil : I am neither, but always I have 
worsiiipped Mrs. X., and it is for her. Don't speak to her until you have 
straightened this out. These people can never do it. They are content if I 


to find herself in my office, her last recollection being her 
entrance into the hospital ten days previously. 

It was thus by a lucky chance that Sally did not go to 
Europe instead of Miss Beauchamp. The latter left Boston 
the next day for Europe, and aside from a few exceptional 
hours remained herself during the rest of the summer. 

am quiet and sleep, and yon know I am strong-willed enough even for that — 
if it be necessary. Do consider this seriously. I can be serious, whether you 
believe it or not." 


SALLY "on top OF THE HEAP*' 

IN the fall Miss Beauchamp returned from Europe. 
She was much improved in health, being practically 
free from the distressing symptoms which for several years 
had made life almost unendurable. As far as physical 
well-being was concerned, life had become fairly enjoy- 
able. If she had been more stable, or had not been ex- 
posed to constantly repeated, even if mild, nervous shocks, 
to which her impressionable temperament contributed, 
there would have been little of which to complain. But 
this instability, and her unfortunate emotional make-up, 
together with one particular disturbing factor of her en- 
vironment, were destined to bring about new mental 
troubles, which, though highly interesting and at times 
dramatic from a psychological point of view, were very 
hard for her to bear. In short, her comparative health 
soon came to an untimely end. 

In the latter part of September Miss Beauchamp reported 
that she had had a number of attacks of somnambulism of 
a very curious sort. During the summer abroad she had 
had several such attacks, each of several hours' duration. 
She would go into them spontaneously; usually, but not 
necessarily, as a consequence of fatigue. If this were all 
there would have been nothing remarkable about them, as it 
will be remembered that she had been subject to attacks of 
somnambulism during much of her life, and had had several 
attacks in June. To her, the' curious part of it now was 
that in these attacks she played tricks, not on other people 
but with the evident desire of tormenting herself. Miss 


Beauchamp was very much discouraged by this new phase 
of her infirmity, as the results were extremely annoying 
and often embarrassing. She felt mortified, too, that she 
should indulge in such tomfooleries, even though it was 
done in a trance. The following extract from my note- 
book gives an idea of the general condition of affairs : 

October 28, 1898. " Miss Beauchamp to-day is very much 
distressed over her doings in these trances. In such states the 
desire shown to torment herself is most absurd. She writes to 
herself letters which she finds on awaking in the morning. In 
these communications she indulges in personal abuse of herself, 
criticising her own actions, and calling herself names. The 
information which she received in this way, together with that 
contained in letters written to W — J — are her principal sources 
of knowledge of what she does in the trance state, and even of 

the fact of having gone into one. J is not aware that the 

letters to him are written in a trance, and she herself learns of 
her own letters only through him. In stj'le, these trance letters 
are not at all like those of her normal self. In her last trance 
she tore up four or five pages of mathematical work which had 
been accomplished after many hours of labor as a part of her 
college exercises.^ This is only a sample of what she does. In 
one attack she took a long walk into the country, and in another 
made a call on Mrs. X. [Mrs. X. later reported that she no- 
ticed nothing unusual about Miss Beauchamp during this call, 
except that she stuttered.] Miss Beauchamp herself learned of 
the visit and of her behavior at the time only through one of the 
letters written to herself." 

Besides being the victim of trances, Miss Beauchamp 
complained that she was "tormented" by some other very 
curious phenomena in the waking state, similar to the 
impulsive lying previously noted. 

[From notebook.] " She often feels an irresistible impulse, 
as if possessed by something inside of her, to do and say things 
which she has no desire to do and say. For instance, a day or 

^ She had bcgnu to take a coarse in a college in Boston. 


two ago, she found the greatest difficulty in coming to see me 
because she felt something trying to prevent her ; though she 
succeeded in coming to the house, yet after awaiting my arrival 
some little time she found it impossible to wait longer; some- 
thing inside of her made her nervous and forced her to go away 
in spite of herself. There is something, she feels, that is trying 
to prevent her seeing me. To-day, while in the waiting-room, 
she felt an impulse, devoid of desire but difficult to resist, to 
lock me in my office. [To conceive of Miss B.'s committing a 
breach of propriety like this is to imagine the sister superior of 
a convent dancing a can-can.] It also troubles her that she 
makes remarks of an impertinent character to Miss K." 

It is difficult to give accurately Miss Beauchamp's keen 
analysis and detailed description of these uncontrollable 
impulses. That she was disturbed by such mental aber- 
rations goes without saying. Not to know what one will 
do next, what false position one will awake to find oneself 
placed in, or what responsibility unconsciously assumed, 
would be trying to the most reckless character ; and if we 
imagine an over-conscientious nature, with a strong sense 
of responsibility, finding herself compelled to do and say 
what is repellant to her instincts, we can undei"stand 
the sense of hopeless tangle into which she seemed to be 

Though Miss Beauchamp, who, it will be remembered, 
was still ignorant of Sally as a personality, naturally sought 
an explanation of these phenomena, it did not seem wise 
that she should be enlightened. Aside from the possible 
ill effect of such knowledge upon her nerVous system, I 
was deterred also by the possibility that the accuracy of 
her observations of herself might be disadvantageously 
affected if she should have any psychological theories in 
mind ; and as long as ignorance could do no harm it was 
desirable that her knowledge should not extend beyond the 
observations of her own actual experiences. 


My first suspicion, amounting, of course, almost to a 
moral certainty, was that it was Sally who was at the 
bottom of all this mischief. It was most probable that 
when Miss Beauchamp went into a trance she changed to 
Sally, who, being now independent, played these pranks 
and followed her own bent. It must have been Sally also, 
who, as a hidden self, made her, when awake, do things 
against her will. Miss Beauchamp had laid great stress 
on the difficulty she had had in coming to see me, and in 
staying after her arrival, having been hindered by this 
something inside of her. I knew that Sally objected to 
Miss Beauchamp's being helped; indeed she had every 
reason for keeping out of my way. It was most probable, 
therefore, that it was Sally, as a second consciousness, 
who caused the irresistible impulses in Miss B. But of 
course this theory remained to be proved. And, if true, 
there still remained the psychological problem. What kind 
of personality is Sally ? I mean what relation did she bear 
to the normal consciousness ? One or two hypotheses had 
already forced themselves forward, — but all this will be 
discussed later in its appropriate place. 

The next day any doubt ^ about the correctness of my 
surmise was set at rest by the receipt of the following 
letter : 

" My dear Dr. Prince, — Yon are most absurd and idiotic 
to waste yonr time and sympathy on such a perfect chnmp as onr 
friend is. I do not like it at all, and I won't have you doing it. 
And moreover I won't have you trying hypnotism again on any 
account. Do you understand ? We do not need it, and we won't 
have it, and we are not interesting psychology [sic]. You make 
me so angry talking a lot of absurd nonsense that you know 
is n't one bit true. Goose ! Why won't you be reasonable ? 
Our friend is going to weep salt tears when she knows I have 

1 Assuming, of course, the following letter authentic, about which subse- 
quent events allow no room for doubt. 


written you. Won't it be jolly? and serve her quite right too, 
for she thinks altogether too much of ' dear Dr. Prince ' and 
too little of my long-suffering Jones. She needs discipline and 
my tender care. I know her a great deal better than you To, 
and I know she is really awfully wicked. Do believe what I 
tell you. ... I want you to very much — and you know you 
are awfully busy with people now. Please be good and let me 
alone. Don't heed her foolish appeals — she is a perfect baby. 
Even Jones says, and he is clever too, that she has absolutely 
no comprehension of things. He gets so cross. You may have 
those notes, if you want them. They are very nice ones too. 
Much better than hers." 

Even if the contents of this letter had not shown the 
mind of a different personality, the tone was so unlike 
Miss Beauchamp's that it would have been impossible to 
attribute it to her. The handwriting alone was hers. 
Some of the expressions refer to remarks I had made to 
Miss Beauchamp, such as that her case was very interest- 
ing "psychology" [psychologically] (Sally meant to use 
the adjective, but always found it too much either to pro- 
nounce or write), and my request for the notes which had 
been written to herself in trances. The possession of this 
knowledge by the writer showed that she was familiar with 
what had occurred between Miss Beauchamp and myself 
during the interview of the preceding day, and therefore 
had no amnesia for this time ; and if the writer was a sub- 
conscious personality it looked very much as if she must 
have been consciously awake at the time and heard the 
conversation. A comparison of the tone of this note with 
that of the following two letters, written at this same time, 
is interesting. These latter, written by Miss Beauchamp 
herself, give an idea of her point of view and general atti- 
tude of mind. 

" Dear Dr. Prince, — I am so anxious to see you and talk 
with you a little — if you are not utterly exasperated with me. 


And I do want you, please, please, to hypnotize me again. 
You know it is the only thing that has ever helped me, and I 
,l,am sure it is the only way, save by fasting and vigil — which 
,you know I am not up to — to cast out this demon of mischief, 
which rules me as it will. The last two attacks have not come 
because of sleeplessness, or pain, or because of any of those 
reasons you suggested for my consolation, — and really, Dr. 
Prince, I cannot believe you, much as I should like to, when 
you say that it is a common thing for people to be afflicted in 
this way. You have been wonderfully good about it all, but I 
realize perfectly what you must think, knowing me as well as 
you do. And I know that you do not believe that the rest of 
the world is just as bad. If you are to be at the office again 
soon, will you send me a note? I was so sorry not to see you 
yesterday, — and I am afraid that you won't understand if I 
say that much as I wanted to see you I could not stay [i. e. , in 
my office]. Has Dr. Y. told you that I went to him while you 
were away because I was in such terror of another attack ? " 

" Dear Dr. Prince, — I hope you will forgive me for troubling 
you again so soon. I would not except that I need advice so 
very much, and no one else understands. It is all that horrible, 
incomprehensible f reakishness, — or whatever you choose to call 
it, — which seems to take possession of me at its own sweet 
will. You know it has troubled me more or less all this autumn, 
and because of it I have tried to keep away from people just as 
much as possible, and have especially avoided Mrs. X., for 
I feared greatly that seeing her might bring on one of those 
attacks when I seem to be possessed of forty devils. Please 
don't be amused. I am in despair when 1 think of it all, for 
yesterday, while I was still possessed, I went to see her, and 
although I have reason to believe that I did nothing worse than 
to stutter,^ yet I cannot be sure. I do know or believe that 
I was very much frightened on seeing Mr. X. appear, and that 
the only thing I said was to beg him not to tell Dr. Prince that I 
stuttered. Is n't it too dreadful ! and what can I do? Shall I 
try to explain to Mrs. X., or will that only make matters worse? 
I am a sure-enough prodigal — there is no doubt of that — 

1 See notebook record, October 28. 


but I think it is rather hard lines to lose one's head so literally 
as I do. You have been awfully good about it all, but I beg 
you won't desert me yet. No one would ever believe in such 
an impossible affliction, I am sure. It is such an unheard-of 
thing. I can hardly believe myself that it is true, — my doing all 
those things which ordinarily I have the greatest coiitempt for. 
Perhaps it is a case for fasting and vigil. Sometimes it seems 
as if it must be. If you will send me just a word saying whether 
it would be better to try to explain to Mrs. X., I will be most 
grateful to you." 

Sally was evidently afraid of " catching a wigging " if 
she were told on, hence her request to Mr. X. not to men- 
tion that she stuttered, by which her personality would be 
known. Miss B. learned this fact from one of her letters 
to herself. 

During the next few days (the last of October and the 
early part of November) several opportunities occurred to 
confirm by personal observation the character of the trances 
and the nature of the "irresistible impulses." At each 
interview I was treated to an exhibition of rebelliousness 
on the part of Sally, who would appear spontaneously and 
unbidden. I also had an opportunity to witness several 
scenes in which Miss Beauchamp was "possessed by some- 
thing inside of her," thus confirming her statement by 
actual observation. These phenomena will presently be 
described. Before long, sufficient were manifested in my 
presence to support all that Miss Beauchamp had said. 
Sally plainly had broken loose again. 

One of the most embaiTassing things in Sally's conduct 
was her making engagements with people, and with one 
person in particular who may easily be guessed. Aside 
from the effect which these engagements had of putting 
Miss Beauchamp into trances, there was no particular harm 
in Sally's youthful loyalty, or there would have been no 
harm if Miss Beauchamp herself had not felt so strongly 
about discontinuing the old relations. It was many months 


before the secret of the past and the psychological reason 
for the anxiety of Miss Beauchamp were revealed. Long 
afterward, when the history of a psychological catastrophe 
was obtained, all became clear. Thus it was that, mor- 
bidly exaggerating in her own mind the seriousness of it 
all, Miss Beauchamp had gone so far as to promise to 
break with the past. Now she found herself, in spite of 
her will, faithless to her solemn promise. The breaking 
of her promise was the basis of her unhappiness and 

The way it worked practically was this: Sally would 
make an engagement for a definite hour. This to all 
appearance would act as a post-hypnotic suggestion. 
When the hour arrived — just as a hypnotic subject 
carries out a suggestion previously given in hj'pnosis, so 
Miss Beauchamp, no matter what her own engagements 
were, where she was, or what she was doing, would 
change to Sally, and off Sally would go to carry out the 
pre-arranged programme. How I did bless Jones, and how 
much trouble he did cause ! I dare say he was innocently 
unconscious of it all, nevertheless the trouble was just as 
great and the consequences as disastrous as if all had been 
done with dire intent. 

It was found necessary to lecture Sally severely on her 
conduct, although it soon became evident that scolding 
had very little permanent effect. Sally was too childlike 
and volatile in character to be influenced in this way for 
long. Nor did pleading have more than a temporary 
effect. She would respond to be sure by becoming re- 
pentant and would then promise anything, but she simply 
could not keep her promises. The only other practical 
methods to influence her were b)- suggestions to B II, 
which Sally found it difficult to counteract, and by hyp- 
notizing Sally herself. The latter was a disagreeable 
process, as it had to be done forcibly against her will, she 


all the time kicking and struggling, both mentally and 
physically. Consequently it was never resorted to except 
in emergencies. 

My time was largely occupied in thwarting Sally's 
plans, and for this her wrath would be called down upon 
my head. It is fair to say, however, that her anger did 
not last long. She could be easily turned to merry amia- 
bility by a pleasant word. You had only to distract her 
attention from a grievance, to suggest a new pleasure, and 
the look of anger was gone and that of friendly merriment 
beamed upon you. I was always sorry to have to play the 
stern moralist. Those savage letters which she sometimes 
wrote in no way did her amiability justice or gave an idea 
of her character, beyond that of her entire lack of any con- 
ception of responsibility and of worldly knowledge. Ex- 
cepting in these moods, her frolicsomeness, gayety, and 
love of fun were irresistible. 

An apparently thoughtless word at this time was the 
cause of a foolish annoyance. Sally got it into her child- 
ish head that she was seriously invited to go to Europe. 
The plan was preposterous, and probably arose from some 
jocose suggestion on the part of her old-time friend Jones. 
Nevertheless Sally took it seriously, as will appear from 
her letters. Miss Beauchamp, hearing of it, also took it 
seriously, and was in a state of terror, not knowing what 
Sally might do. Sally seemed to her mind capable of any- 
thing. Two letters found by Miss Beauchamp on coming 
out of a trance, and written while in that state, referred 
to this European trip in a way that gave no doubt about 
Sally's view. They were sent to me by Miss Beauchamp, 
enclosed in the following letter: 

" I enclose two of the notes you wished to see. I cannot tell 
you how ashamed I am that I could liave written such things, 
whether consciously or unconsciously. Forgive me for muti- 
lating them. I really had to, a little. The third, from Jones, 


it is impossible to send you because it does not seem quite fair 
to him. Are you cross with me for making that arrangement 
this morning without consulting you ? I am so sorry if you are, 
but it can be easily undone. It was only my extreme terror 
that suggested it. It seemed as if I must keep in touch with 
some one, and I wanted that some one to be you. But it was 
very thoughtless and foolish of me, and I am truly sorry. 

"Thanking you so much for all your kindness and patience, 
I remain," 

The first of the enclosed notes was from Sally to me and 
ran as follows : 

" I hate you, hate you, hate you, for an utter barbarian — 
and we are never coming to you again. She shall not be hyp- 
notized — do you understand ? Jones is going to take us away 
— very, very far away, where you cannot possibly come, and 
we are going to stay with him and love him for always. And you 
may walk on the hip. You shall not make me any more trouble, 
and you shall not have the pleasure of seeing me squeezed ^ 
again. She cannot do it now, for she is awfully wicked herself, 
although she does n't tell lies as you do. This from," 

" Please be good, and write her that you are so busy she must 
not come at present. Please^ please do." 

[Sally to Jones.] " Won't you please come and take me away 
right at once? Some one — I cannot tell you who — is going 
to hypnotize me and make me so awfully good that I won't ever 
be allowed to see j'ou again. And I want you not to let it be 
done. Please take me aioay. I do truly want to go, and I 'm 
not making a fool of you this time. I 'm going to be awfully 
reasonable, and I won't forget any of the notes I write or the 
things I say, and I will love you a great deal, — if only you 
please won't be so very much in earnest. I don't like it, you 

know. Come to about five-thirty to-morrow, and we will 

do our planning all over again. It will be such fun, won't it? 
and we will leave all this dreary unhappy life behind us, and 
never be sorry any more. But you must not let me be hypno- 

* See footnote, p. 97. 


tized again — that is true really — it spoils everything. Don't 
ask me any more about it, for there is a very special reason why 
I cannot tell you. Only we must stop it. Isn't this a very nice 
note? Until to-morrow, then," 

The childlike character of these last two letters is too 
obvious not to be seen. One might imagine them written 
by a child of twelve or thirteen years. In interpreting 
Sally's actions this child character must always be kept in 
mind. But her individuality was complicated by the fact 
that though a child in mental development, she had had 
the benefit of the adult experiences of Miss Beauchamp, 
and therefore had more knowledge and culture than a 
child. Yet she looked at everything from a child's point of 
view. Her general attitude of mind and her actions were 
those of a very young girl, as were some of her ideas of fun, 
and particularly her love of mischief. One of the principal 
difficulties in managing her was the impossibility of making 
her see her own conduct from an adult point of view. 

There are two or three expressions in these letters 
which are very suggestive. In the second Sally says, 
" I 'm not making a fool of you this time. I 'm going to 
be awfully reasonable, and I won't forget any of the notes 
I write or the things I say." Reading between the lines, 
it is easy to understand to what this refers. It was Sally 
who had written the letters, made the engagements, etc. 
Later, the personality changing to Miss Beauchamp, not 
only the attitude and manner changed from friendliness to 
great reserve, but Miss Beauchamp denied everything she 
had said and done, and even the authenticity of the letters. 
It must indeed have seemed that she was making a fool of 
her correspondent. But Sally, who of course knew the 
ins and outs of it all, protests that " this time " she is not 
going to make a fool of him, because she hopes that if she 
can prevent herself and Miss B. from being hypnotized she 
(Sally) can stay always. 


1 have often been asked how Miss Beauchamp managed 
to get on while she led such a double life. In one sense 
she did not get on, except at the expense of enduring every 
sort of annoyance and disappointment. The following 
incident illustrates one kind of annoyance, for which, how- 
ever, Sally was not directly responsible. 

It had been arranged that Miss Beauchamp was to tele- 
phone every morning in regard to her condition. On 
Christmas morning I was called to the telephone, and at 
once recognized the voice of one member of the family by 
the stuttering, cheerfulness, and general tone. It was 
unmistakably Sally. The next day, Monday, I received 
the following note, written Christmas night, showing that 
the writer had no knowledge of having (as Sally) tele- 
phoned me Christmas morning: 

" I beg that you will forgive me for neglecting to telephone 
you as you wished this morning. I have lost the past twenty- 
four hours absolutely — as if it were twenty-four seconds. 
" Very sincerely yours," 

I soon learned what had happened from both Miss 
Beauchamp and Sally. 

On Saturday afternoon, the day before Christmas, Miss 
Beauchamp was in church, sitting on the right hand side, 
and the choir was singing the processional. Then all of a 
sudden, so to speak, she found herself on the left hand 
side of the church, though they were still singing the pro- 
cessional. How she had changed her place she did not 
know, though at the time she supposed she might have 
had a trance and made the change. Having learned by 
experience not to give herself away, she said nothing, but 
after leaving the church with her friend Miss K. she 
remarked to her, "We are going to have a cold Christ- 
mas." At this Miss K. laughed, which she thought 
queer. She had sufficient presence of mind to say nothing 



more, but was rather surprised that Miss K., who had pre- 
viously asked her to spend Christmas Eve with her, said 
nothing about it. She was further surprised on reaching 
home to find Christmas gifts about. All seemed to have 
changed since she left home for church. It was not long 
before she discovered that twenty-four hours had elapsed 
since she first entered the church, and that during this 
time Christmas had come and nearly gone, though she 
remembered nothing of it. The music of the processional 
had apparently put her into a trance, and this same music 
had, twenty-four hours later, waked her up again. 

It transpired that Sally had enjoyed Christmas Eve with 
Miss K., and in fact had fulfilled all the family engage- 
ments. Therefore Sally had her Christmas, but Miss 
Beauchamp, to her disappointment, lost hers. 

Another incident, illustrating how Miss Beauchamp did 
not get on, is worth recording on account of its psycho- 
logical importance. It shows not„only the coexistence of 
two mincls>.hut.tha_£oexistence of a subconscious sane mind 
with a delirious mind. 

I was summoned to visit Miss Beauchamp at the house 
of Miss K., where she was said to have arrived the previous 
evening in a delirious condition. She was still delirious 
on my arrival, and did not know me or her surroundings ; 
but Sally, with whom she kept alternating, was perfectly 
sane, and rather delighted with the condition of affairs. 
I was never able to learn exactly what had happened to 
cause the catastrophe, nor could Miss Beauchamp recall 
the incident excepting in a fragmentary way.^ It is fairly. 

1 Miss B. afterward wrote : " All the arrangements for leaving there [her 
own lodgings] were made by Sally, who pretended that she was acting under 
yonr instructions. I believed that she was, — yet your strange silence, and my 
own inability to speak of the hospital made me very uneasy. I felt there was 
something wrong, although I did not know what. The last day there made 
me fearfully nervous, frightened, hysterical : everything was so strange, and 
you did not come or send any word. From that time my recollections are 
very scrappy indeed. I remember being in some station in the evening ( , 


clear, however, that Sally, taking advantage of a sugges- 
tion of mine that it would be advisable for Miss Beau- 
champ to go to a hospital for a few days, and pretending 
that she was acting under my instructions, had packed her 
trunks and sent them away, leaving only a handbag with 
the few things necessary for travelling. The scheme must 
have been very carefully planned, but where Sally carried 
Miss Beauchamp before ending at Miss K. 's is a mystery. 
The next scene of which I was a witness was psychologi- 
cally impressive, not to say dramatic. 

Miss Beauchamp did not recognize me, or Miss K., or 
her surroundings. In her delirium she was living over 
again, I think, some event of the past. She imagined 
herself at Cohasset, and awaiting some one. She was 
in great distress. When I endeavored to bring her to 
herself, Sally at once appeared instead, laughing and 
treating the matter as a great joke. There was not the 
slightest trace of delirium or mental disturbance about 
this secondary consciousness, who disclosed the content 
of her other self's delirium. The two personalities, the 
delirious and the sane, kept spontaneously disappearing 
and alternating with each other. Sally even agreed to act 
as nurse, and to "come" at intervals and take the pre- 
scribed food which delirious Miss Beauchamp refused, — 
an agreement which Sally carefully observed. 

larger, I think), and afterward I remember being driven slowly over some 
very bumpy roads. It was still dark, and raining hard. Tliere was no one 
with me, I am sure, for I kept wondering why you should have sent me alone 
instead of coming with me as you had before. Then I remember a nurse or 
maid — some one all in white with white cap — bringing me a cup of hot 
beef-tea; then Miss K.., sitting opposite me in her room talking; tlien look- 
ing at my watch and finding it a quarter to four. From a quarter to four 
until a little after si.K I remember everything. Then after that nothing, — 
except my despair at finding your letter destroyed and the pieces threaded ou 
a long hat pin in my hand. In the evening I saw tlie street very distinctly 
for some minutes ; then I remember being startled by a tremendous report 
close to my head, and turning I saw Miss K. with a pistol in Iier hand. . . . 
Then it was morning again and I saw " — [unfinisiied]. Miss K. informed me 
she had fired off the pistol with the idea of producing a shock that would 
briug Miss B. back to consciousness. 


When one stops to think about it, the coexistence of a 
normal mind with a delirious mind in the same individual 
seems a curious phenomenon, but it is one which has 
been recorded before. To observe before one's eyes a 
delirious personality suddenly change to a sane one, and 
vice versa, would have been startling if we had not become 
accustomed to strange things in this strange case. Then, 
again, to be informed by one mind of the delirious vagaries 
of the other mind showed very conclusively the distinction 
between the two. To state the matter in another way, 
here was a delirious person within whom there apparently 
existed a sane personality, cognizant of every delirious 
thought and action, able to report upon everything tliat 
took place within and without, acting as nui-se to the 
delirious consciousness, coming at the appointed time to 
take the prescribed remedies, and giving warning to the 
physician of the mental perturbation. 

Miss Beauchamp became a puzzle to her friends, who 
did not understand her changing moods. These " moods " 
really meant a transformation into and from Sally, who 
thus came more frequently into touch with social life. 
Indeed, Sally was fast getting to "the top of the heap," 
as she wrote when she first got her eyes open. She was 
" coming " more readily and more often, so that Miss 
Beauchamp seemed to herself to be " losing " a greater 
amount of time. Miss B. felt too, as she wrote in one of 
her letters, that she was "possessed." "Losing time" 
meant that Sally was absorbing a greater part of Miss 
Beauchamp's life. 

Sometimes, though this was more common at a later 
date, the transition from one pereonality to the other 
would take place during the course of a conversation. 
Then Sally, knowing Miss Beauchamp's thoughts, could 
go on with the conversation and play her part; but Miss 
Beauchamp, if she came to herself at such timeSy exchang- 


ing places with Sally, would be at a loss to know what 
had gone before, and at her wits' end not to betray herself. 
Sally, on the other hand, used to impersonate Miss Beau- 
champ, copying as far as she was able her mannerisms and 
tone. At other times, forgetful or heedless of Miss B.'s 
character, she would throw herself into the game, regard- 
less of consequences, giving vent to her own frolicsome 
irresponsibility, while her friends would gape at the sudden 
transformation of serious, dignified, reticent Miss Beau- 
champ. It must have been puzzling, as I have been 
assured it was, to see a person suddenly change in mood 
and expression, without apparent rhyme or reason ; at one 
moment exhibiting tlie irresponsible, heedless, high spirits 
of youth, and the next moment, in the twinkling of an 
eye, becoming depressed, sombre, and grave. Again, as 
Sally she would make statements, assertions, promises, 
and engagements which as Miss Beauchamp she would 
deny, to the discomfort and confusion of her friends. 
Many of the contretemps resulting from this, sometimes 
amusing, sometimes annoying, will come out in the course 
of this study. But it is not fair to credit Sally with 
naughtiness only: the Recording Angel must inscribe 
many good deeds against her name. She was not always 
reckless and regardless of the family reputation. Except- 
ing where her own amusements or her own special wishes 
were concerned, she generally protected Miss Beauchamp, 
particularly with strangei-s, pretending as I have said to be 
the same personality, copying her manner, going on with 
the same conversations, and doing the same things that 
Miss Beauchamp had been doing a moment before. Simi- 
larly she would perform her daily duties and even loyally 
carry out her engagements, provided they did not conflict 
with her own plans. 

Sally should be credited also with keeping me informed 
of the various disturbing elements in Miss Beauchamp's 


life (at least those for which Sally herself was not respon- 
sible) that from day to day acted injuriously upon her 
nervous system, exciting the nerve storms and shocks to 
which reference has already been made. Often it was 
Miss Beauchamp's own meditations and emotions which 
were the offending factors, and on these Sally kept me 
well posted. Miss Beauchamp, for reasons already given, 
was exasperatingly reticent about such matters, and kept 
me in the dark about much that it was important to know. 
Sally's information, which always proved to be correct, 
was a great help. 

On the other hand, Sally's motives were not always so 
lofty, for with me it was often for the purpose of obtaining 
her own way that she would impersonate Miss Beauchamp. 
When blocked in some design I have seen Sally over 
and over again attempt to pass herself off as Miss Beau- 
champ, but the pretension could always be detected after 
a moment's observation. I have also frequently seen Miss 
Beauchamp struggling against "something inside of her," 
as she termed it, which it required no prophetic knowledge 
to guess was Sally trying to compel her to act against 
her own wish. And when Sally was foiled in this, owing 
to my intervention, that young phenomenon would force 
Miss Beauchamp out of existence, and coming herself 
would seek in disguise to escape from the room. 

In these scenes two closely related phenomena of con- 
siderable psychological importance were brought under 
direct observation, namely, ahoulia and impuhions. The 
latter phenomena had been frequently complained of by 
B I, and frequent reference has been made to them, but 
no opportunities to actually observe them had been pre- 
sented. The incidents which will be related in the next 
chapter confirm the statements of the victim of these 



IT probably will be asked in connection with the phe- 
nomena and events about to be described in this chap- 
ter, How much did Miss Beauchamp know at this time 
about the nature of her infirmity? In a psychological 
sense she knew very little, but regarded herself as one 
"possessed" in much the same sense as it is said in the 
Bible that a person is " possessed." She was well aware 
that she went into trances and in those trances did extra- 
ordinary things, and behaved in a way that shocked her 
sense of propriety. She realized, too, though in a somewhat 
indefinite manner, that her possessions at times influenced 
her every-day actions, and in some way interfered with the 
freedom of her will. But the psychological nature of these 
attacks was unknown to her, and in fact was carefully 
concealed, so that her knowledge was very indefinite. She 
was ignorant of the phenomena of the multiple personali- 
ties, and was not allowed to know that her trance state was 
a second veritable personality which persisted in a more or 
less sharply differentiated form as a subconsciousness dur- 
ing her normal waking state. It was necessary at times 
to infonn her of what she had done during her trances, and 
sometimes to warn her of plans and intended escapades 
which in this state she had concocted, but her trance 
doings were always spoken of as her own, as if done by 
herself in a state of somnambulism. Sally's letters she 
regarded as her own trance vagaries, and Sally's signature 


as a name used by herself for the purpose of canying out 
a part. Her feelings of being " possessed " she connected 
in an indefinite way with her trances and realized that from 
time to time her mind and body were controlled much as 
one might be controlled by convulsive phenomena. Al- 
though her idea was somewhat vague, she inferred that 
this control was due to one part of her mind acting upon the 
other part and upon her body. This really was the actual 
feeling that she had when "possessed," and against this 
possession, when it came upon her, she struggled with all 
her will. I think this conception, too, was vaguely con- 
nected with the ethical idea of punishment for sins, and 
hence the diabolical nature of the possession ; and she half 
believed that by punishment and prayer her devil was to 
be cast out of her. But her conception involved no defi- 
nite notion that that which possessed her was in any sense 
of the word a distinct subconscious personality, differen- 
tiated from herself, anything to which a personal name 
might be given.^ With this explanation in mind, it will 
be easy to properly interpret her position in connection 
with tlie following phenomena : 

Ahoulia and impulsions. It has been already explained 
that by ahoulia is meant an enfeeblement or paralysis of 
the will. It may originate in several ways. It may, for 
instance, originate in conditions confined entirely to the 
field of the waking consciousness. The ordinary aboulia 
which Miss Beauchamp exhibited, that which expressed 
itself in morbid reticence, for instance, had such a pathol- 
ogy. But it also may result from the influence of sub- 
conscious ideas. On several occasions Miss Beauchamp 
gave manifestations of this variety. Then Sally, by exert- 
ing her will against that of her other self, could produce 

1 Such a notion would involve an interpretation of the phenomena. At 
this stage of our study I do not wish to bo understood as committing myself 
by implication to any precise hypothesis, beyond that of a subcousciousnesA 
of some sort. 


an inhibition of such a degree that Miss Beauchamp would 
find herself unable to will the simplest act, whether it were 
speaking, writing, studying, or walking. 

It has been also explained that by impulsions (syno- 
nyms: obsessions, imperative ideas, zwangsvorstellungen) 
are meant imperious impulses to some action which may be 
against the person's own wish and will. The person is often 
painfully and helplessly conscious of their domination. It 
is now well recognized, thanks to the work of Janet, that 
these phenomena may in certain cases be the action of fixed 
ideas or emotions in a second consciousness unknown to 
the waking self. The impulses by which Miss Beauchamp 
complained that she was tormented were plainly of this 
nature. The way she told ridiculous lies at an earlier 
period has been already described, as well as the impulses 
of a different form, which soon after her return from 
Europe gave her the sense of being "possessed." The 
evidence for these facts had thus far rested upon the com- 
plaints of the subject, but the following incident illustrates 
a struggle actually observed between two consciousnesses ; 
the action of one upon the other resulting in both aboulia 
and impulsion. Miss Beauchamp, at first unable to write 
a letter, ends by being the victim of an imperative impulse. 

One day, early in November, Miss Beauchamp came to 
the consulting room, for the purpose of writing a letter in 
my presence. This letter was intended to explain the 
nature of her malady to her unconsciously troublesome 
coiTespondent, Jones, who was ignorant of her mental dis- 
ability. It was hoped that the letter, being countersigned 
by me, would put an end to the correspondence and en- 
gagements in which her irresponsible self still persisted. It 
never occurred to me tlrat Sally could thwart this scheme. 

Miss Beauchamp sat down to write the letter, but 
at once met with a difiiculty. She succeeded in writ- 
ing a few lines, but all the time kept repeating, " Don't 


let me go [meaning, out of the room], Don't let me go." 
Her tone was pleading, and her manner nervous and 
agitated. She gave the impression of struggling against 
some controlling force, — something that waa taking pos- 
session of her brain and muscles against her will. Tlie 
expression of her face was worried and depressed; her 
movements halting and jerky. She made every effort to 
write, but kept stopping and constantly shifting her posi- 
tion, sometimes half rising, then sitting again; at one 
moment tlirowing down her pen, then taking it up, repeat- 
ing meanwhile in a supplicating way, " Don't let me go." 
I changed my seat to one between her and the door, re- 
marking that it was now physically impossible for her to 
go. Thereupon she became more quiet. Presently she 
altered her tone and said, "Please let me go." This phrase 
she would repeat in reply to every remark made to her. 
The nervous manner had disappeared ; her face was placid 
and serious ; her movements no longer agitated ; the tone 
of her voice, although composed, was not depressed. What 
did the change mean? Plainly the obsession had ceased. 
I felt certain that it was Sally trying to pass herself off as 
Miss Beauchamp, and in this disguise escape. Charged 
with the fact, and put to the test of reading French, which 
this personality could not do, she at first evaded, but soon, 
seeing that she was caught, burst out laughing and showed 
herself in her customary' colors, enjo3dng the joke. 

Such scenes as this were the outcome of a contest of 
wills, — of Sally's will against Miss Beauchamp's will. 
Later and frequent investigations demonstrated this origin 
of the phenomena. In these contests Sally usually won, 
and Miss Beauchamp's will would be paralyzed. The latter 
would not only find herself unable to will to do what she 
wished, but often was actually compelled to do something 
she did not wish to do. Over and over again Miss Beau- 
champ has tried to tell me something of importance, — 


something concerning her welfare, and of which she had 
purposely come to give me information, but which if told 
might thwart Sally's schemes, and as often, after vain 
effort to speak, she has given it up, remarking, " Well, it 
doesn't matter." The same phenomenon has been mani- 
fested by B II. This was nothing more nor less than 
ahoulia. Arising in the numner described, it was of im- 
portance in that it showed the existence of a secondary 
consciousness, concomitant or coexisting with the habitual 
consciousness. For two wills to contend against each other 
they must coexist. Sally, then, did not simply alternate 
with Miss Beauchamp, she coexisted with her. 

In connection with the matter of detecting Sally when 
masquerading as Miss Beauchamp, I have often been asked 
how one personality differs from the other. Of coui-se the 
mode of speech and mannerisms of each differ, but more 
than this, it is a very interesting fact that with both Miss 
Beauchamp and Sally every mood, feeling, and emotion 
is accompanied automatically by its own facial expres- 
sion, so that, as each individuality has a dominant, and 
for the most part continuous, emotional state of mind, each 
wears a corresponding expression, different muscles coming 
into play in each. By this expression alone it is generally 
possible at a glance to recognize the personality. As 
this expression is purely automatic and the accompanying 
resultant of the emotion, it is impossible for one person- 
ality completelj'^ to simulate the other. When Sally tries 
to impersonate Miss Beauchamp the best she can do 
is to look serious; but as she does not feel serious, or 
actually have the emotion or mood of Miss Beauchamp, 
her face does not assume the expression of that personality. 
Occasionally Sally will have for a moment, under the in- 
fluence of some event, such as a scolding or threat of punish- 
ment, a depressing or anxious emotion identical with that 
of Miss Beauchamp ; then her face will wear an expres- 


sion indistinguishable from the latter's, but as a rule these 
variations are only momentary. 

Three weeks later, November 21, another and similar 
incident, in which abouUa and impulsions were manifested, 
occurred. This incident had an amusing side, though it led 
to what almost might be called " a fight to a finish " between 
the two personalities. The first letter to Jones, eventually 
written and sent, having failed to accomplish its purpose, 
owing I suppose to the fact that it was too great a tax 
upon the creduhty of her correspondent (Such is the wis- 
dom of the uninformed !), it was arranged that this time I 
should dictate the letter, Miss Beauchamp merely copying 
it. She had come for this purpose. On entering the con- 
sulting room she appeared restless and nervous, saying 
constantly that she " must go," she could not stay, she 
would come back, etc., etc. Her manner plainly indicated 
that she was struggling against some force which was 
impelling her to go. Finally she said that she felt as if 
" possessed " ; that something not herself was trying to 
prevent her from staying. For its moral effect, I locked 
the door. Still she was so restless that after making a 
futile attempt to write the letter she had to give it up. 
Soon, as might have been anticipated, she changed to Sally, 
who as before attempted to escape in the disguise of her 
other self. As usual, Sally enjoyed the joke, but her merri- 
ment turned to rebellion as soon as an attempt was made 
to control her. With much violence of feeling she objected 
to the letter, and to anything being done for Miss Beau- 
champ, calling her " a chump," " stupid," etc. It became 
necessary to resort to hypnotism, which resulted in the 
confession of the details of an engagement for the follow- 
ing Wednesday at eight o'clock in the evening. After 
quite a scene and the usual lecture on her behavior, Sally 
became submissive and promised not to keep the engage- 


ment. She was then changed back to Miss Beauchamp, who 
calmly and easily wrote the letter as dictated. 

Miss Beauchamp complained again of her position, saying 
it was " terrible," that it was a " fiend " that was bothering 
her, etc., etc. A few minutes later Sally again came upon 
the scene and at once revealed herself by mimicking and 
jeering at her other self. She was irresistibly funny, in 
spite of the tragic side of it all. " Really," she said, copy- 
ing the tone and manner and repeating the very words of 
Miss Beauchamp, " Really, Dr. Prince, I must be possessed ; 
a perfect fiend is in me. I don't know Avhat I shall do 1 
Such a horrible thing ! I should think, Dr. Prince, you 
would hate me." Then she broke into a peal of laughter. 

The appointed hour for Sally's escapade, be it remem- 
bered, was eight o'clock in the evening of the following 
Wednesday. In the afternoon of the same day, at three 
o'clock. Miss Beauchamp had agreed to pay me a visit. 
When these hours arrived there was witnessed by those 
about her a most remarkable exhibition of phenomena, 
which can only be interpreted as those of impulsions on 
the one hand, and on the other, as a struggle between two 
coexistent minds in one body. My information about it 
came in this way: In the afternoon or early evening I 
received two notes : one from Miss Beauchamp, and one 
from Mrs. R., with whom she was boarding. Miss Beau- 
champ's letter ran as follows : 

"Will you please send me some morphia? The bromide 
does n't help, and I am thoroughly upset. I can remember, 
really I do remember, but things are trying to slip from me, 
and I am so nervous and tired. I want to sleep too, and I am 
stuttering awfully. It is so dreadful — all of it — but if you 
will send me the morphia I shall surely be all right to-morrow. 
Please, please do." 

The other letter, from Mrs. R., stated that Miss Beau- 
champ was in poor condition and asked advice. 


Later in the evening Mrs. R. telephoned that she was 
quite alarmed about her charge, who was restless and ner- 
vous and in a queer state. On my arrival, about 11 o'clock, 
I found Miss Beauchamp stuttering badly, and in a mental 
condition resembling that of a person lightly hypnotized. 
A few suggestions restored her to herself. The following 
facts were then learned : Mrs. R. stated that at about three 
o'clock Miss Beauchamp had acted very curiously ; " jump- 
ing and squirming and wriggling about " in the most re- 
markable manner. At about eight o'clock this was repeated. 
Miss Beauchamp stated on her part that at the earlier 
hour she had made an effort to leave the house to keep her 
appointment with me, but that she simply could not keep 
it. She felt herself controlled by something which pre- 
vented her. She had become very restless and was obliged 
to give up her intention. Later in the evening she had an 
almost irresistible desire to go out of the house, without 
any definable aim. Between seven and eight o'clock this 
desire became strongest, and she was then at her worst. 
Concluding that this impulse was one of her possessions 
she determined to fight it. Though beaten in the after- 
noon this time she had won the victory, much to her 
delight, but from all accounts it had been a "nervous" 
afternoon. As to the stuttering, she felt as if some 
one had control of her tongue. The next morning Miss 
Beauchamp received the following letter from Sally : 

" I am positively ashamed of you, my sainted Christine, that 
you should pretend to be shocked because I choose to go to 

with ix)or dear W. I shall go with him just as often as 

I choose, in spite of you, and in spite of Dr. Prince too, and 
you know that you liave been no end of times. You are sneaky, 
just sneaky, and if I were you I 'd confess my own sins before 
I began bewailing those of other people. And please let Dr. 
Prince alone. He tells lies and squeezes people, and he is per- 
fectly horrid to you too. Do' be reasonable and we can get on 


loads better. I won't be squeezed. I just won't. I '11 make 
you all dead first. Your prayer book is in the salt-box covered 
way up, if you want it. Perhaps you 'd better rescue it so that 
you can pray out of it. And your silly old examples for the 
red-haired one ^ are all in tiny wee pieces which you may enjoy 
putting together again, as long as it is so awfully important 
you should do that sort of thing. You are afraid of everybody 
— you are — nobody wanted you to go with W. last night and 
you ought to be sorry you did not take me for a walk instead 
of staying at home and kicking up such a row. Dr. Prince 
wanted to shake you, and so did Mrs. R., and I just wish they 
had. Nobody shakes you even when you have ultrer*^ motives 
and I am always getting [word omitted; scolded?]. The Mar- 
garet Margaret ^ is all gone too. I made cigarette papers out 
of it. Are n't you glad? I did it all for you. I knew you'd 
like it, so good-bye dearie, and don't you dare go anywhere un- 
less I tell you you may. 

" Your affectionate guardian." 

That same afternoon Sally boasted that she had made 
Miss Beauchamp stutter ; that she had prevented her keep- 
ing her appointment with me ; and that she had produced 
the desire to go out in the evening, although she had no 
intention of keeping the engagement, intending simply " to 
take a walk." She had done all this by the process of 
" willing." 

A comparison of Sally's letter with the following from 
Miss Beauchamp enclosing it is interesting as showing the 
difference in the characters of the two personalities : 

" I do hope this evening's accident* has proved less serious 
than Mrs. feared when I saw her, aud if my delaying you 

1 One of her teachers. 

^ Ulterior. This was a new word Sally had learned from me, aud it was 
evidently too much for her. 

8 Some literary work which represented much labor. 

* Referring to a carriage accident by which my horse was killed. The 
accident occurred while my carriage was waiting for me during Miss Beau- 
champ's visit. 


was in any degree responsible for it all I can only hope that you 
will believe I regret it from the very depths of my soul. You 
must not tell me to come to you again, ever; not wholly because 
of this that has occurred, but partly because for a long time I 
have felt that I have been trespassing far too deeply on your 
time and patience. And through it all I have done so little to 
help you, so much to hinder ! It is only childish, as you say, 
to keep repeating that one is sorry, so very sorry, for all these 
things. This time I hope to be stronger. I enclose the note 
you asked for and only wish it may be of some interest psycho- 
logically — it is utterly absurd from any other point of view. 
Do forgive me as many of my sins and shortcomings as you 
can, and believe that I shall be always infinitely more grateful 
to you than I can say." 

The habit which Sally had of making engagements un- 
known to Miss Beauchamp was becoming seriously trouble- 
some. It not only interfered with Miss Beauchamp's own 
plans but it distressed her to discover later that in this in- 
terval of lost time she had carried out plans objectionable 
to hereelf, even to reversing what she had previously said 
and done. Then as Sally found amusement in writing 
letters to Miss Beauchamp, telling just enough of what slie 
had done to allow Miss Beauchamp to infer the woi'st, the 
latter's imagination would run riot, conjure up all sorts of 
possioixities, and inspire a state of terror. The letters 
would allude to matters of which she was ignorant, and 
therefore keep her mind in a state of apprehension. 

Here is a specimen of Sally's letters; others will be 
given in the next chapter: 

"You dear, sweet, good, little girl! Never heard of Jones 
before, did you? No wonder Dr. Prince is utterly disgusted 
with you. Cannot even confess straight! I shall tell him 
everything, and then you '11 see what he thinks of you. 
' Damned from here to eternity,' just as Jones says. 




1. Childish 6. Foolish 

2. Emotional 7. Imprudent 

3. Stupid 8. No discretion 

4. Selfish 9. False ideas 

5. Inconsiderate 10. Infant. 

Miss Devil Lady." 

The final epithet, referring to Miss Beauchamp's feeling 
of being possessed by a_^vil, Sally frequently scribbled 
over Miss B.'s letters. The ten sins are expressions which 
she had picked out of various criticisms made upon her by 
Jones, without regard to the context. The sins with which 
poor Miss Beauchamp was charged are presumptive evi- 
dence of mistaken identity, for no one could look upon her 
as childish, or inconsiderate, or selfish, unless they mistook 
her for her subconscious self, Sally. The ingenuity wliich 
that self displayed in sticking mental pins into Miss Beau- 
champ by means of letters was quite remarkable, hinting 
as she did in a most subtle way at all sorts of occurrences 
dreadful to contemplate. 

What was the secret of all this tormenting, this abuse of 
her other self? They were after all the same being, in- 
habiting the same body, — though no amount of argument 
could persuade Sally to admit the fact. Why then should 
Sally delight in annoying herself? There were several 

In the first place, Sally disliked the Hfe she was perforce 
obliged by Miss Beauchamp to live. Sally loved an out- 
door, breezy life; sports, amusements, physical activity, 
games, and the theatre. It was tales of adventure and of 
outdoor life, of hunting and riding, that she delighted in, 
and that I often had to tell her to satisfy her longing. 
And here was Miss Beauchamp devoted to duty and study I 
In the Litter's life pleasure and recreation rarely entered. 
Sally complained bitterly of Miss Beauchamp's studious 
habits, and used to paralyze her will so that she could not 


study. " I hate those stupid old books," she would plead 
in extenuation. " What does she always want to be reading 
them for ? What is there for me to do ? " She thought it 
hard that she must be quiet and passive while Miss Beau- 
champ could do as she pleased. And it was dull for her 
when her other self was occupied with such uninteresting 

Then, in the second place, teasing seems to be the natural 
outlet of youthful minds. It seems to appeal to the sense 
of fun of every boy and girl, particularly when a vent for 
animal spirits cannot be found in physical exercise. 

But above all, perhaps, the reason is to be found in the 
fact that, strange as it may seem, Sally hated Miss Beau- 
champ. " I hate her, I just hate her," she would reply to 
every remonstrance on her conduct, and whenever up- 
braided for molesting herself, — her other self. The rea- 
son for this hatred was still more strange. Jt.was jealousy. 
This showed itself in various ways. She was jealous of 
Miss Beauchamp's superior attainments, of her culture, and 
above all of her popularity with her friends, and of the care 
anS solicitude shown for her. She was jealous that we who 
were interested in her case were trying to keep Miss Beau- 
champ in existence in preference to her secondary con- 
sciousness, Sally. " Nobody seems to care what becomes 
of me," she would complain, when a plea was made that 
Miss Beauchamp's life should not be interfered with. 

The following letter from Miss Beauchamp shows her 
condition of mind resulting from the various trials she had 
undergone ; 

" I have been losing time again, and hasten to let you know 
at once, as I promised ; althougii I am much afruid that you 
will consider it my own fault because I have not been taking 
things philosophically. But, really, everything is upside down, 
and when things are in that condition it is hard to be philosophi- 
cal, even though one realizes that not to be ' shows a lamentable 


want of strength.' I got extremely tired on Friday, going 

about with Miss , and by the time I had seen her off on 

the train, I was not merely tired, but nervous and overwrought, 
so that coming upon Jones unexpectedly in the evening was a 
great shock to me. He was so angry — more angry than I 
have ever known him — and was delightfully frank in telling 
me not merely what he thought, but what you must of necessity 
think concerning me. But, indeed, Dr. Prince, you cannot think 
such things if your knowledge and understanding of me are as 
absolute as I believe them to be. You simply cannot, — and yet 
I have been able to think of little else these last few days. I 
have tried to tell you everything — not at first, I know, but since 
then — and even without my telling you know my very inmost 
thoughts. There is only one thing I have kept from you and that 
is nothing you would wish to hear. ... I am afraid this note is 
not very coherent, as I am writing in the greatest haste and my 
ideas are mixed, but you will forgive that, I know, and believe 

" Sincerely yours," 

One of the most distressing things to Miss Beauchamp 
was her inability to keep her promises, owing to the freaks 
of Sally. The fear of failure was a source of constant 
anxiety, for never in practice did she look upon herself as 
irresponsible, or consider that in her trances she was an- 
other person. Her point of view was simply that she was 
transformed at such times and acted differently from what 
she desired in her normal condition. " It is myself, after 
all," she would say, pathetically. So when she promised, 
for example, to keep me informed by letter of her doings, 
or what was more important, not to correspond or keep up 
associations with certain persons, she was in constant ter- 
ror of breaking these promises, though the one who broke 
them was Sally, not herself. To her it seemed to be her- 
self. Indeed, Sally did everything she could to break any 
promise of Miss Beauchamp if it crossed her own pur- 
poses. As we have seen, she destroyed Miss B.'s letters 


as fast as they were written, she corresponded when for- 
bidden, and she made engagements which Miss Beauchamp 
was in honor bound not to fulfil. 

Mrs. X., one of Miss Beauchamp's friends, did not 
realize this, and in putting her on honor, so to speak, 
naturally, though always charitably, thought it Miss Beau- 
champ's fault if she failed in her promises. Miss Beau- 
champ never sought to exculpate herself by putting the 
blame on her subconscious demon. Her only answer was 
self-accusing silence, or " It is myself," though to me she 
would explain her situation that I might understand, 
making no attempt, however, to excuse herself. The fol- 
lowing letter gives an insight into her mind : 

" I have failed miserably in keeping my promise to tell you 
about things, but you will believe that I have tried? tried until 
I am nearly beside myself with pain and vexation, but it is 
useless. My attendant demon is too much for me and destroys 
faster than I can write. You know it has always had a strong 
dislike for you for some reason or other, and it is very much de- 
voted to Jones. I dare not make this explanation fuller lest this 
note follow the others. You will understand, I am sure." 

Suhconscious fixed fear. One very interesting phenom- 
enon noted at this time, and frequently observed Liter in 
varying forms, was a feeling of fear whicli seemed to well 
up, so to speak, out of the depths of the subconscious 
strata of her mind. She complained of an indefinable, 
unreasoning fear, without any particular basis or specific 
object. It would come over her in attacks many times a 
day, and particularly at night, last a few moments, and then 
subside. It was another form of obsession. 

The obsession of fears (fixed-fears, Angst-Neurose'), is 
well recognized in neurology, though a knowledge of its 
pathology is not as widespread as it should be. A great 
many people are its victim;^ and often go through life tor- 


tured by apparently groundless fears, and misunderstood by 
their physicians as well as by those about them. Some- 
times the fear is indefinable and not associated with any 
particular object. More often it is connected with some 
particular thing, as fire, disease, or drugs ; very commonly 
it takes the form of shyness. Such fears may have their 
origin in subconscious mental states of which the habitual 
self has little or no knowledge. Such fears always arise 
originally, of course, in some conscious experience, but later 
they become dissociated and crystallized as a secondary 
subconsciousness,^ along with the memoiy of the event 
which gave rise to them ; then from time to time the fear, 
without the associated memories, becomes synthesized with 
the waking self, and the subject experiences an objectless, 
indefinable fear which appears to be without cause. 

Fears of this kind form a well-recognized psychosis, one 
with which we have to deal in e very-day practice. If this 
were the proper place I could give from my notebook 
numerous instances of this phenomenon in other subjects. 
A. B., a schoolboy, is overwhelmed by attacks of indefinable 
fear, which the history showed originated in a fright at the 
thought of an imaginary illness. Mrs. C. D. has similar 
attacks, which hypnosis discloses developed out of a faint- 
ing attack in early girlhood twenty years before. In other 
instances the fear or anxiety is not absolutely indefinable, 
but is associated with certain indefinite memories and 
thoughts which, however, lack clearness and are incom- 
pletely formulated. In such cases a portion only of the 
memories upon which the fear depends remains subcon- 
scious and dissociated. In still other cases the whole of 
the obsession belongs to the waking consciousness, and 
then the fear is precise and definite. 

1 It should be understood that by the secondary subconsciousness is meant, 
in the case of Miss Beauchamp, not the group of conscious states called Sally, 
but another group which in hypnosis becomes a part of the hypnotic self, B IL 


Manifestations of one or the other kind of subconscious 
phenomena have often been observed in Miss Beauchamp. 
It has only been necessary to catechise the hypnotic self to 
learn their whole content and origin. In the present in- 
stance the subconscious fear originated from a very specific 
fear and anxiety about a specific matter which is quite dis- 
tinct in her mind and which she now distinguishes from 
the indefinable fear. This specific fear was that she would 
break a promise made to Mrs. X. and it had come upon her 
as a nervous shock on discovering that this danger threat- 
ened her. It arose in the following way : Miss Beauchamp 
had received a letter from Jones which plainly indicated 
that she as Sally, aild therefore unknown to herself, had 
made a promise which involved the breaking of her prom- 
ise to Mrs. X. When she read the letter she discovered 
her danger, and it aroused in her a great fear, — a fear that 
in spite of herself she would break her promise. I taxed 
Sally with this intended escapade, harmless in itself, but 
she obstinately persisted in her purpose, saying, childlike, 
that she didn't see why she shouldn't, and so on. Al- 
though Miss Beauchamp knew nothing of this beyond what 
was contained in the letter, she knew enough, remembering 
the past, to feel herself upon a powder magazine. 

" I am afraid," she wiites, " of everything now — of myself 
most of all — for Mrs. X. in trusting me has in a way put me 
on honor, and if I fail her again what shall I do? And yet I 
have the most dreadful feeling that somehow I shall fail. It 
seems to me as if Satan himself were mocking me, playing with 
me as a cat with a mouse. 'Absurd,' you will say, and yet it 
is horrible beyond words to have such fear. Do you under- 
stand? Can you understand without having experienced it? 
Mrs. X. does not, and cannot, and is only distressed by hearing 
about it, — and there is no one else to whom I can go. You 
will be confessor again and forget the note? It could not 
have been true, you know. Really it could not, for lots of 


The origin of the attacks of indefinable fear was thus 
quite intelligible : the fear of breaking her promise had 
passed into the secondary consciousness from which it 
penetrated at moments into the waking self, as an isolated 
phenomenon without its associated thoughts. This was 
easily shown by catechizing B II, who was able to give a 
full account of the origiYi of the obsession and the nature 
of the attacks. It will be noticed that the secondary con- 
sciousness (dissociated idea of danger) is not Sally's con- 
sciousness, but another group of subconscious states, the 
memory of which is retained by B II. We shall meet 
with numerous instances of such subconscious emotions. 
They correspond with the subconscious sensations in hys- 
terical anesthesia, systematized anesthesia, etc. 

Apropos of this subconscious phenomenon it is also in- 
teresting to note that in a vague way Miss Beauchamp 
was conscious of Sally's enjoyment of the situation. It 
seemed as if the emotions, pleasurable in this instance and 
previously aroused in the consciousness of this second per- 
sonality, invaded in a mild way the field of consciousness 
of the primary self, B I. Miss Beauchamp stated that she 
had a sensation as if there were a part of her that had a 
feeling of pleasure when she had this fear and anxiety 
about breaking her promise. She was unable to give a 
more definite or analytical description of this psychical 
state, always coming back to the idea that there was some- 
thing in her which seemed to enjoy it.^ 

The following incident was amusing, even if annoying to 
the victim : 

Miss Beauchamp, as a protection against breaking her 
promise, had purposely concealed her address from one of 

1 If this be the correct interpretation it would seem that the primary wak- 
ing self can be invaded by subconscious emotions belonging to B III as well 
as by those which, originally belonging to itself, become split off to form the 
ordinary subconsciousness. 


her friends. She was therefore naturally annoyed when she 
received a letter from this person, and was much perplexed 
to know how her address, which was a new one, could 
have become known. But she was not astonished, because, 
as she said, " Jones always does know everything." After 
discussing this matter with me awhile and just as she was 
going out of the door, she changed to Sally, who began at 
once, most amusingly and with much seriousness, to mimic 
Miss Beauchamp. "I can't possibly imagine how Jones 
could know ; it is most annoying," she repeated, and went 
on, using the exact words just used by Miss Beauchamp, 
and mimicking the tone of her voice and her manner. 
Sally of course was the culprit, and, as she confessed, had 
written Jones, giving him full information. That Sally, as 
usual, enjoyed Miss Beauchamp's anxiety about all these 
things, and was absolutely without mercy for her, goes 
without saying. 

Sally's increasing escapades and interference with Miss 
Beauchamp's life and peace of mind were becoming a seri- 
ous matter, and it was absolutely essential Sally should be 
controlled. But it was one thing to vote the suppression 
of the culprit and another to do it. Threats, scoldings, 
personal appeals to her loyalty, and hypnotism were the 
most effective measures, and each was used in turn, but no 
method produced more than temporary results. 

First, the secret of her plans or past doings had to be 
discovered. This was no easy matter, though sometimes 
one could extract from her the details of an intended esca- 
pade, for, childlike, she was pretty sure to betray herself 
by a guilty expression or gesture of some kind ; and then 
carefully worded questions, or threats of punishment or 
of interference, would bring out the whole. Sometimes, 
when the circumstances were serious, it was necessary to 
put her upon a sort of hj^pnotic rack and elicit the infor- 
mation by torture, a form of inquisition which perhaps 


could only be justified by the end, — Miss Beauchamp's 
moral peace. One day, for instance, when asked whether 
she had made any more secret engagements, she admitted 
that she had, but refused to tell more because I would stop 
her fun. Remonstrances proved vain, so I told her she 
would be compelled by other means to submit. Putting 
my finger to her forehead, I made her believe I had the 
power of exorcism. The effect was remarkable. She 
shrank from me much as the conventional Mephistopheles 
of the stage shrinks from the cross on the handle of the 
sword, at the same time complaining that it made a " ter- 
rible " painful sensation run through her body. This was 
a feeling of coldness ^ so intense that from its very painful- 
ness it paralyzed her will and reduced her power of resist- 
ance. She feared it more than anything that could be 
done to her. Still she doggedly persisted in refusing either 
to reveal the secret of her engagement or to promise to 
break it. In spite of the pain, slirinking and crouching 
upon her knees, she fought on for a long time. Finally, 
unable to endure it longer, she yielded and confessed the 
details of her intended escapade. But even then her com- 
plaint was long that her fun had been spoiled, and she 
sought to make it a condition of surrender that nothing 
should be done for Miss Beauchamp, who in Sally's vo- 
cabulary was a "chump." Nevertheless the rack had 
brought confession. 

But to control Sally, besides threats and scoldings which 
were sometimes effective, pleading and appeals to her in- 
nate kindliness and regard for others often won her, — 
with one exception: no request made on behalf of Miss 
Beauchamp had the slightest effect. On this point she 
was implacable. But what good were her promises be- 

1 I had often used as a suggestion to suppress Sally that she " should be 
dead." It is probable, therefore, that this feeling of coldness arose by asso- 
ciation with the idea of death, or a corpse. After a time it ceased to be felt. 


yond a few days ? She could not keep them, and always 
said so frankly. 

Here is a letter from Sally. I give it as a specimen of 
her frivolity after a stem moral lecture : 

" Know all men by these presents that I, Sally, being of 
sound mind and in full possession of all my senses, do hereby 
most solemnly promise to love, honor, and obey Morton Prince, 
M. D., situate in the city of Boston, state of Massachusetts, 
from this time forth, toujours. Amen, amen, amen. 

" Toujours is French, you know." 

Sally had been guilty of unusual offence. Miss Beau- 
champ had been put to the mortification of learning that 
in a trance she had borrowed a large sum of money, had 
given forty dollars to a beggar, and then, to cap the climax, 
had lost a treasured watch. The latter, as I learned, Sally 
had pulled to pieces, — " It would be such fun to see if she 
could take the works out," — and then, finding she was no 
watchmaker, she had hidden the pieces. 

Plainly the time had come to apply the disagreeable but 
drastic measure of hypnotism. 

So Sally was condemned. Here are two specimen appli- 
cations of the punishment : She was rebellious and declared 
war. The contest began. Again I reproduced the cold 
feeling. She fought to counteract my influence and the 
suggestions by giving to herself counter-suggestions mut- 
tered under her breath: "I won't be hypnotized. I can 
open my eyes. I can speak," and so on, opposing every 
suggestion of mine by one of her own. Against the cold 
feeling she struggled valiantly. I pretended to etherize 
her with mock ether. She coughed and choked and sput- 
tered as if it were real. " From this time forth," I com- 
manded, "you shall be dead to the world. You shall 
never again have power to influence or to molest Miss 
Beauchamp. Your will power is lost. You shall go back 


to where you came from," etx)., etc. I paralyzed her 
tongue, her limbs, her will power. But from moment to 
moment she would struggle and mutter, as well as she 
could with the little control left over her tongue, that 
she would not die, would not disappear, etc. Finally, 
after half an hour, she became lethargic and passive, and 
the final therapeutic suggestions both for Miss Beauchamp 
and hereelf were given. 

The effect lasted — just four days! During this time 
Sally was suppressed, or as she afterwards used to express 
it, she had gone back to where she came from ; Miss Beau- 
champ was herself, well and happy. Then Sally broke 
loose again. My notes four days later read : " Hypnotized. 
Same thing repeated as on Monday ; same fight ; same re- 
belliousness ; same suggestions." And so it became appar- 
ent that the effect of hypnotizing Sally was not lasting. 

Psychologically and therapeutically it was interesting to 
discover that the effect of suggestions to Sally hypnotized 
was twofold. First, such suggestions influenced Sally her- 
self. She found it difficult to influence her waking con- 
sciousness, to change Miss Beauchamp to herself, to write 
letters, to play pranks. In fact, Sally was to a large extent 
" squeezed " out of existence. Second, and more inter- 
esting psychologically, suggestions to Sally influenced the 
waking self the same as if given to B 11. This showed a 
relationship between the two groups of conscious states 
(personalities) in spite of their apparent disunion. But it 
was not at all clear what that relationship was. By sug- 
gestions to Sally in hypnosis, neurasthenic symptoms, in- 
somnia, and what not, could be made to disappear in tlie 
twinkling of an eye, just as when given to B II ; but un- 
fortunately, as an effect of the anxiety induced by Sally's 
pranks, they would reappear almost in another twinkling. 

The following letter from Miss Beauchamp expresses her 
attitude of mind toward her trouble : 


" Please forgive me for troubling you with this note. You 
need not answer it. I write only because I am tired and dis- 
couraged and full of all sorts of fancies which writing may dis- 
pel. And then too I do want to talk to you. I wish I had told 
you simply and frankly this afternoon just why 1 wanted infor- 
mation. It would have been so much easier for you and there 
was no earthly reason for not telling you. Jones has been dis- 
cussing various matters lately, as j'ou doubtless know from your 
reference to Dr. G,, and among other things — perhaps you 
know this too — he told me that just so long as I continued to 
be in thought, word, and deed the child ^ that I was ten years 
ago, just so long would it be hard for him and dangerous for 
myself. Do you understand better now? And do you see 
why I want to know everything that you have patience to 
tell me ? everything that other people know. It is all horribly 
puzzling . . ." 

But even if hypnotizing Sally was only temporary in its 
results it would have proved a powerful influence in treat- 
ing the case, had it not been that Sally on her part made a 
discovery which was worth two of mine. She found that 
though I could hypnotize her I could not wake up Miss 
Beaucharap unless she (Sally) chose to let me : that is to 
say, even in hypnosis Sally had sufficient control left to., 
thwart the command that she should change to B I and__ 
wake up. Here it may be added that Sally, after waking as 
herself, does not have amnesia for her own hypnotic state. 
She remembers everything said and done to her while 
hypnotized. She could therefore plan in anticipation of 
the attack against her in hypnosis, and as long as she 
resisted she could not be changed to B I. At every attempt 
to do this Sally would wake from hypnosis, and instead of 
obtaining Miss Beauchamp I would have Sally, who would 
insist upon remaining. Suggestions that she should like 

* Apparently referring to her conduct as Sally, for which Miss B. got the 
credit. The division of personality was not understood or recognized by her 


Miss Beauchamp, and other suggestions intended to have a 
moral influence, were resisted and were without result. " I 
hate her," she would answer. Sally's good-will and co- 
operation became essential. This obtained, all was easy : 
Miss Beauchamp would wake up in good spirits, light- 
hearted, and physically without ailment. 

The following scene is an illustration of the pass to 
which we had come. It also exhibits the other side of 
Sally's character, — a soft, kindly side, to which one could 
always appeal with success, provided it was not in behalf 
of Miss Beauchamp. It was this side tpo which was seen 
when we treated Sally as the personality she claimed to be, 
— the equal of her waking self. 

It will be remembered that Miss Beauchamp had lost 
her Christmas Day in consequence of having changed to 
Sally. After Sally had given me her side of the story I 
told her she must let Miss Beauchamp wake up, but this 
she had no intention of doing. The flag of rebellion was 
hoisted at once, and to all my urging she would only reply 
in a prevaricating way, " I am awake." Finding arguments 
of no avail I hypnotized her against her will, making her 
feel, as usual, icy cold. She remonstrated and struggled 
with considerable vigor against this hypnotic effect, re- 
peating, " I won't, I won't. I won't be dead," etc., etc. 
Finding myself baffled, I made her inhale from a mock 
bottle of ether, which in the hypnotic state she smelled; 
she coughed and breathed as if she were being suffocated. 
Nevertheless every time I suggested that B I should wake 
up, Sally would appear instead. Her mental resistance 
was so strong that it was finally necessary to give up 
this method and to take another tone. I pretended to 
be very much hurt by her conduct, and to be discouraged 
and sorry. I drew a picture of the result of her behavior, 
— how it had ruined the afternoon. I told her of a very 
ill patient whom I had been unable to visit, and who was 


at the moment suffering and without a physician. In fact, 
I played the sympathetic act, putting on a sorrowful ex- 
pression as one might with a child whose conduct one 
wished to reprove. Sally seemed very much affected. All 
the joyousness went out of her face and she appeared much 
disturbed by the picture I drew of the consequences of her 
conduct and of the trouble which she was causing other 
people. Then I told her that if she really were sorry, as 
she professed, she could make amends by letting B I wake 
up. But afc this suggestion her manner changed in an in- 
stant to resentment. Finally, as a compromise she said 
that if I would promise never again to let Miss Beauchamp 
come to see me, and would have nothing to do with her, she 
would let her be waked up. Her jealousy of Miss Beau- 
champ was easily detected, revealing itself as the secret of 
her uncompromising persistency in annoying her. She did 
not hesitate to say as usual that she hated Miss Beau- 
champ, giving in explanation the usual answers ; that Miss 
B. was always interested in books and stupid things of that 
kind, was foolish, did foolish things, and so on. The mo- 
tive of jealousy was plain. Of coui*se this offer of Sally's 
was refused. An hour had already been consumed in 
fruitless effort, but it was not until after another hour of 
moral urging in which the evil of her ways was still further 
emphasized that she was ready to make the concession. 
The picture of the trouble and unhappiness she caused 
other people, which I drew for her with a melodramatic 
hand, induced in her a real regret, and a real sorrow. But 
when it came to the question of Miss Beauchamp she was 
still implacable. It was only out of consideration for others 
that she finally acquiesced. Then her promise was given 
that every time Miss Beauchamp went into a trance she 
(Sally) would immediately, on the moment, wake her up ; 
and that she would do this for the next month. 

Sally pleaded that slie had "just as much right to live" 


as had Miss Beauchamp ; that she " enjoyed life just as 
much " as her other self, and complained bitterl}'^ of the dull 
time she had when she could not get out of her shell. 
Almost piteously she pleaded, " Why can't I live as well 
as she ? I have got.just as much right to live as she has." 
To her it was a question which should die and which 
should live. She never could be made to recognize the 
identity of the two personalities. 

It must not be thought that Miss Beauchamp was always 
ill or in dire distress. The events and scenes I have de- 
scribed were episodes in a life that was like a river which 
sometimes runs smoothly and sometimes is troubled by 
rapids and whirlpools. Unless Sally was particularly ag- 
gressive, Miss Beauchamp could always count upon three 
or four days, and occasionally upon a week of peace of 
mind and good physical health, after receiving therapeutic 
suggestions. Then there would be three or four days of 
annoying interference from Sally, to be put an end to in 
turn by therapeutic suggestion. To see Miss Beauchamp 
enter the consulting room weary, worn, depressed, hope- 
lessness written upon her face and expressed in every tone 
of her voice, and then to see her depart with a light step, 
every trace of weariness gone, and the vigor of hope in her 
heart, — well, to see her go away so tiunsf ormed by a few 
therapeutic suggestions amply repaid all the care and time 
this strange case exacted. 



■T"TTHAT is Sally ? What sort of a consciousness is this 
VV personality? And what relationship exists between 
her consciousness and the waking B I ? 

An answer to this problem cannot be given until many 
more facts in the psychology of this complex case are 
studied. On the basis, however, of the facts thus far 
adduced we are warranted in definitely drawing certain 
conclusions : 

In the first place, Sally is a distinct personality in the 
sense of having a character, trains of thought, memories, 
perceptions, acquisitions, and mental acquirements, differ- 
ent from those of B I. 

Secondly : She is an alternating personality in that dur- 
ing the times when the primary self has vanished Sally is 
for the time being the whole conscious personality, having 
taken the place of the other. As an alternating peraon- 
ality so much of the whole field of consciousness as 
persists belongs to her and there is no other self. At 
such times B I does not become a subconsciousness to 
Sally but as a pei-sonality is wiped out. 

Thirdly: Sally does not simply alternate with B I. 
There are times when Sally manifests herself as a concomi- 
tant extra-consciousness, concomitant with the primary 
personality, B I and also B II. A greater or less number 
of the groups of conscious states which make up her per- 
sonality, her perceptions, her thoughts, and her will, 
coexist with those of B I. In other words, there is a 


doubling of the personality. It is convenient to speak of 
this second group, whether large or small, as Sally, 
whether it is the whole of Sally or not. Sally may there- 
fore be termed a co-consciousness^ or a subconsciousness. 

The evidence for coexistence is found in the many 
manifestations already recited of another consciousness 
while Miss Beauchamp has been present. The phenomena 
of automatic movements, aboulia, obsessions, imperative 
impulses, and the conflict between the two wills, may be 
particularly mentioned. Even more conclusive are the 
phenomena of "automatic writing" and speech which 
were later frequently observed. Proofs of this doubling 
of consciousness will be found running through this study. 

A curious fact, dithcult to interpret satisfactorily ex- 
cepting on the theory of the persistence of " Sally " as a 
subconscious self, is that on several occasions when Miss 
Beauchamp was delirious the evidence indicated the co- 
incident presence of Sally as a perfectly sane subcon- 

Fourthly : It does not follow that the extent of Sally's 
mind as a subconscious self is coextensive with her mind 
as an alternating self. 

One of the most interesting problems, and one which has 
an important bearing upon that of the limits of subcon- 
scious life, is whether or not Sally, when not present as an 
alternating self, is always in existence as a subconscious 
self. Sally maintains that she is; that (subconsciously) 
she knows everything Miss Beauchamp (and B II) does at 
the time she does it, — knows what she thinks, hears what 
she says, reads what she writes, and sees what she does ; 
that she knows all this as a separate co-self, and that her 
knowledge does not come to her afterwards, when an alter- 
nating self, in the form of memory. We shall soon see 
that the same claim is made for a pei-sistent existence dur- 
ing the presence of B IV. 



This is a very broad claim for subconscious life, even 
when pathological. It is not, however, very much more 
extreme than the interpretation which is connoted by the 
published description of some reported cases.^ 

If we confine ourselves in the case of Sally to the sub- 
conscious phenomena which are open to objective investi- 
gation and have been actually observed, we shall find that 
they are subject to two interpretations, namely : 

(A.) Sally may subconsciously come to life only at the 
moment when the automatic phenomena are manifested. 
After the cessation of the automatism the subconscious self 
may subside as any idea or feeling may subside. In tliis 
case the sub-self would have only a series of spasmodic 
existences, each of which would be of only relatively mo- 
mentary duration. Her knowledge of Miss Beauchamp's 
life would be acquired almost entirely through memory 
when she becomes an alternating self ; just as a hypnotic 
self reraembei'S the waking state. Sally's belief (the sin- 
cerity of which is beyond question) in her own continuous 
existence must, under this interpretation, be an illusion of 

(B.) Sally, or some of her mental processes, may have a 
continuQjis existence during the whole of Miss Beauchamp's 
(and B IV's) life, or during certain periods, for example, 
during a period of delirium. In this case the automatic 
manifestations would be merely ebullitions in the mental 
life of a persistent subconscious self. A subconsciousness 
of this extent would, however, not necessarily be more 
than an exaggeration of that which is shown by the sub- 
conscious solution of arithmetical problems. 

Besides the objective evidence, the introspective testi- 
mony of Sally ought to be at least weighed. 

A consideration of these two interpretations will be post- 
poned until we have all the data of the case before us. It 

1 Compare Janet's account of Mme. B. ; Rev. Fhilosoph., March, 1888. 


should, however, be insisted upon that the first, the more 
conservative of the two, should be held until it can be shown 
to be inadequate. "We should be on our guard against 
hastily ascribing to subconscious activity and doubling of 
consciousness phenomena which may quite as well be 
explained as alternations of mental states. Much of the 
automatic activity, like writing, speaking, etc., which in well 
known reported cases has been inteipreted as subconscious 
phenomena, has been, in my judgment, in large part at least, 
merely exhibitions of alternations of consciousness. The 
subject goes into a dreamy state in which little or nothing is 
left of the primary consciousness, while a newly organized 
self comes to the front and gives the exhibition. Some of 
the automatic action exhibited by Miss Beauchamp was of 
this character. In such instances Sally, though apparently 
acting subconsciously, was practically an alternating self. 
The internal as well as the external evidence must often be 
weighed in determining the reality of co-conscious activity. 

If the phraseology of the text appears to definitely postu- 
late a continuous subconscious self, I would have it borne in 
mind that for the present we are mainly concerned with the 
description of the phenomena, rather than their interpreta- 
tion. Whatever interpretation we shall be obliged finally 
to adopt, both B I and B IV were compelled by the exigen- 
cies of their " possession " to conduct themselves as if their 
" demon " were always " inside," a spectator of their lives. 

There are certain other peculiarities of Sally wliich ought 
to be stated now : 

Sally has a peculiar form of anesthesia. With her eyes 
closed she can feel nothing. The tactile, pain, thermic, 
and muscular senses are involved. You may stroke, prick, 
or burn any part of her skin and she does not feel it. You 
may place a limb in any posture without her being able to 
recognize the position which lias been assumed. But let 
her open her eyes and look at what you are doing, let her 


join the visual sense with the tactile or other senses, and 
the lost sensations at once return. The association of 
visual perceptions with these sensations brings the latter 
into the field of her personal consciousness. The same 
thing is true of auditory perceptions. If Sally hears a 
sound associated with an object, she can feel the object. 
For instance, place a bunch of keys in her hand and she 
does not know what she holds. Now jingle the keys and 
she can at once feel them, as is shown by her being able 
to recognize the different parts of their forms. 

jSensation may also be restored hy suggestion. But the 
restoration is only temporary, lasting for a few hours or 
for the day. I used frequently to restore sensation in this 
way for Sally. Seeing how easily it was done, Sally took 
the tip and every morning, when at the height of her 
career, used to make the suggestions to herself, using my 
language. She would thus secure to herself the advantage 
of sensory perceptions. It was possible to suggest, to a 
limited extent at least, painful sensations, that is, the 
feeling of intense, painful coldness. This was utilized in 
controlling her. No experiments were made in producing 
other forms of pain. 

Curiously, Sally does not have, as we should expect, 
limitation of the field of vision unless she is " squeezed " ; 
then there is moderate limitation. Nor is there impair- 
ment of the special senses. 

This peculiar anesthesia is not as bizarre as may appear 
at fii-st sight, although I do not happen to have run across 
any references to it in the literature showing that it has 
been previously observed. Yet it is analogous to a form 
of hysterical blindness when monocular. Such a subject, 
as pointed out and proved by Parinaud, Pitres, Charcot, 
and other French observers, as well as by myself,^ cannot 

^ Hysterical Monocular Amblyopia. Amer. Jour. Med. Sciences, February, 


see with the blind eye, if the other is closed. But as 
soon as the opposite eye is opened, sight returns at once 
to the affected eye, that is, as soon as the images of the 
affected eye are associated with those of the sound eye. 
(The recognition of this peculiarity of the amblyopia of 
some hysterics is important, as such subjects are often 
charged with malingering.) Another analogous phenom- 
enon is what is known as Lasegue's Symptom. A hysteric 
who with eyes closed has muscular weakness (or paresis) 
of a degree which will prevent him from recording more 
than a few degrees on the dynamometer, will, if his eyes 
are open (and he has visual perception of his hand), have 
an increase of power of grasp that will record 80° or 90°. 
The association of the visual images has the effect of 
restoring to the personal consciousness the kinesthetic 
images necessary for muscular movements. ^ 

The explanabion of such phenomena at present is diffi- 
cult, if not impossible. It is undoubtedly to be found in 
the reintegration of the field of consciousness, but I am 
inclined to the view that the data at hand point to an 
integration along physiological lines, — that is, the neuron 
systems, rather than along the lines of association of 

Sally's anesthesia extends to the somatic feelings. She 
is never hungry or thirsty. If she eats she does so as a 
matter of form or social requirement. There is also an 
entire absence of bodily discomforts. This anesthesia 
probably explains in large part Sally's freedom from ill 
health. She does not know the meaning of fatigue, of 
pain, of ill health. She always is well. It is probabl}', 
in part at least, in consequence of this anesthesia that 
Sally does not share the pain or other physical ailments of 
Miss Beauchamp, or any of the personalities. Let Miss 
Beauchamp be suffering from abdominal pain, or headache, 
or physical exhaustion, and let her change to Sally and at 


once all these symptoms disappear. Sally knows of the 
symptoms of the other personalities only through their 
thoughts or their actions. She does not feel the symptoms 
themselves. The same is true of the sense of muscular 
fatigue. Sally can walk miles without being conscious 
of the physiological effect. Curiously enough, however, 
Miss Beauchamp may afterwards suffer from the fatigue 
effects of Sally's exertions. 

What is true of Sally in these respects as an alternating 
personality is also true of her as a subconsciousness. 
Subconsciously/, Sally is always anesthetic. If Miss Beau- 
champ's eyes are closed and any portion of the skin is 
touched or pricked, or if a limb is placed in any posture, 
subconscious Sally is unconscious of the tactile pain or 
muscular sensations, although the other personalities are 
not anesthetic, but perceive each sensation perfectly. 

It was found possible to take advantage of this fact and 
by pressure upon certain so-called hypnogenetic points 
on B I, B II, or B III, to produce suggestive effects in 
one of the other personalities or hypnotic states without 
Sally's being able to discover the procedure employed. 
In one epoch of this study I was in this way able to 
produce therapeutic results without Sally's being able, 
because of her ignorance, to thwart my efforts as she was 
desirous of doing. 

Sally's knowledge of Miss Beauchamp's thoughts shows 
certain curious paradoxical peculiarities. Although she 
knows Miss Beauchamp's thoughts at any given moment 
she has not Miss Beattchamp' s culture. This is true 
whether Sally is a subconsciousness or an alternating per- 
sonality. She does not know French or other foreign 
languages, nor can she write shorthand. In brief, she 
has little of the Primary Self's education, but she reads, 
writes, and speaks English well. Some unusual words, 
like "psychology," bother her, and sometimes she insists, 


in a childlike way, upon the prerogative of coining words 
of her own. 

Here, again, it was found possible to take advantage of 
this curious ignorance of the subconscious Sally, to com- 
municate with Miss Beauchamp without betraying what 
was said to Sally. By conversing in French with Miss 
Beauchamp it was possible to communicate information 
which it was desirable that Sally should not have. This 
often brought retaliation from the latter. Also Miss 
Beauchamp, to conceal her thoughts from her other self, 
has been in the habit of writing her diary in shorthand. 

It is not easy to give a psychological explanation of this 
difference in the conscious assimilation of Miss Beau- 
champ's intellectual processes by this secondary conscious- 
ness, according as to whether those processes are made up 
of thoughts of the moment or of memories of what passes 
under the head of learned acquisitions. It would seem 
that it is the memory of those intellectual processes which 
were formed by laborious attention and repetition which 
are not synthesized with Sally's consciousness, — in other 
words, the memory of certain educational mental processes. 
Yet Sally can write and has an elementary education. 
On the other hand, the memory of Miss Beauchamp's past 
experiences, which might be in a general way classified as 
social, or the experiences of conduct, are all synthesized 
with Sally's mind. Sally's memory for these experiences 
is probably better than that of Miss Beauchamp. Can 
these peculiarities depend upon the fact that the subcon- 
scious Sally pays little or no attention to matters which 
occupy Miss Beauchamp's mind as objects of study ? Can 
it be possible that Sally had really become well differen- 
tiated as a secondary consciousness at the time when Miss 
Beauchamp pursued her school and college education, and 
was able by voluntary effort to neglect those thoughts which 
were occupied with study ? If Sally's autobiography can be 


accepted as evidence, there is something to be said in favor 
of such a hypothesis. Sally herself has rather strongly 
intimated it and there was some evidence of it to be found 
in the experiences of Miss Beauchamp and Sally when the 
former was studying shorthand during the period of this 
study. Yet I think there is a profounder reason to be 
found in an intellectual limitation of the capacity for syn- 
thesis. If Sally is directed to concentrate her mind on a 
mathematical problem, or other similar subject, Sally tends 
to change to Miss Beauchamp. That is to say, by syn- 
thesizing Miss Beauchamp's knowledge with that of Sally, 
the latter disappears, and the main personality becomes 

Of course it is manifest that one of the most marked 
peculiarities of Sally's personality is its childlike imma- 
turity. Sally is a child. This suggested the idea that 
Sally might be a reversion to an early period of Miss 
Beauchamp's life. It is a well-known fact that in hyp- 
notic experiments certain states may be artificially pro- 
duced in which the subject is found to have reverted to a 

particular period of his life. A subject named M , 

for instance, studied by Dr. Sidis, Dr. Linenthal, and my- 
self, was made to revert to a period in his life when he 
was sixteen years of age. He then spontaneously, unin- 
fluenced by suggestion, lost his knowledge of the English 
language and spoke his own native dialect, Russo-German, 
which he spoke when a boy. The same phenomenon has 
been observed in multiple personality. The classical case 
of Louis Viv^ in several of his personalities^ reverted to 
corresponding epochs in his life, and in each personality he 
was afflicted with the same paralytic infirmity with which 
he was afflicted at the time: in one case hemiplegia, in 
another, paraplegia, etc. A moment's consideration, how- 
ever, will disprove such a theory if applied to Sally. In the 
first place her memory is not limited to any particular epoch, 


but she has a continuous memory of her whole life. Such 
necessarily could not be the case in the reversion type of 
personality. In the second place, as an alternating person- 
ality she remembers numerous previously subconscious 
states, showing a distinctly different type of dissociation. 

With this brief description of Sally's personality it would 
seem advisable to dismiss further discussion of her psy- 
chology until we come to discuss the theory of the case 
as a whole, and the theory of the secondary consciousness. 
It may be said simply in the way of summary that Sally is 
a dissociated group of conscious states. These are probably 
entirely pathological and have no analogy in normal life. 
I am unable to see that, unlike some other subconscious 
states shown to exist in this case, Sally, as a subconscious- 
ness fulfils any useful function in the mental economy. 

Sally claims never to sleep, but it is very likely that 
this is an illusion on her part. She claims to know the 
dreams of Miss Beauchamp to the minutest detail, includ- 
ing those dreams which are not remembered on waking, 
and the external agencies, such as sounds in the street, 
which give rise to them. By comparing Sally's statements 
with those of Miss Beauchamp it is possible to verify 
Sally's claim in regard to the dreams which Miss Beau- 
champ remembers, but, of course, these dreams Sally would 
be expected to know, whether she slept or not. More 
interesting is the fact that this subconscious personality 
insists that there are many other dreams which Miss Beau- 
champ does not remember on waking, and which she, 
Sally, claims to be conscious of and remember. These 
dreams are more extensive than those that are remembered. 
It has not been found possible to verify this testimony 
which must be judged on its intrinsic evidence. 

Most curious is Sally's absolute ignorance of time. She 
cannot compute it. A day, a week, a month are almost 
the same to her. Things happened " a short time ago, " 



or "a long time ago," in her calendar. But even these 
expressions do not connote the same ideas to her as to the 
rest of us. One year is the same as ten years ; ten seconds 
as ten minutes. Ask her to guess a minute, and she is as 
likely to call time at the end of ten seconds as five minutes. 
It would seem as if this absolute inability to measure time 
might, if experimentally studied, throw some light on our 
psychological time perceptions. It would seem as if time 
could not be entirely measured by the memory of the 
succession of events, for Sally experiences events as well 
as any one else. She does not know her own age. 

Can there be a time sense ? If not, what prevents Sally 
from estimating time? 

Sally is also suggestible. It is possible to hypnotize 
her, although she has no amnesia on awaking, and to pro- 
duce various phenomena of suggestion ; to produce closure 
of the lids, to make her blind, deaf, and dumb. Further, 
through suggestions to this self, it is possible to affect 
the waking self; to produce sleep, relieve uncomfortable 
symptoms, etc. 

One of the most diflScult and at the same time interest- 
ing problems offered by Sally is the extent of her mind as 
a subconsciousness. When Sally disappears as an alter- 
nating personality and becomes subconscious, does her 
mind in the transformation lose something of its faculties 
and dwindle in the range of its mental processes? This 
would mean conversely that, when Sally emerges from her 
subconscious position and becomes an alternating person- 
ality, by the very process she robs the primary conscious- 
ness of a part of its mind, and to that extent acquires a 
wider field of consciousness herself. 

This question is difficult to answer in its entirety, as, 
for reasons which will be explained when we inquire into 
the problem of the subconscious, ^ it is not open to experi- 

1 Vol. U. 


mental methods of investigation. We have to rely chiefly 
upon the evidence derived from the spontaneous phenom- 
ena, such as will be described in the further course of this 
study. I will here merely point out that there is evidence 
of the curtailment, in one respect, at least, of Sally's mind 
as a subconsciousness, namely: Sally does not possess, 
save under exceptional conditions, the kinesthetic images 
of muscular movements. This is only another way of 
saying that Sally does not possess the use of the limbs 
and body nor the faculty of speech. The primary con- 
sciousness alone has control of the motor centres of the 
brain. It is only under exceptional conditions or when 
Sally becomes an alternating personality that these centres 
become associated with her consciousness. It is possible, 
therefore, if not probable, that there is some curtailment of 
subconscious Sally's mind in other directions. Evidence 
of this is seen when Sally becomes "squeezed." Then she 
constantly complains that she is limited in the freedom of 
her actions. This is shown by the difficulty that she has 
at such times in writing, either as a subconsciousness, or 
as an alternating personality. Her writing loses its free- 
dom, it becomes crabbed, cramped, and, it may be, illeg- 
ible, until, if the " squeezing " process is carried further, 
she is obliged to resort to printing (Appendix Q.) to 
express her thoughts, and may not be able to do even 
that. At such times, as an alternating self, she has been 
known to be reduced to cutting printed words and letters 
from the newspapers, and by pasting them together to 
transmit her messages. And yet the content of the vari- 
ous subconscious phenomena which have been frequently 
manifested by Sally indicates a large field of conscious 
thought. We shall be in a better position to consider the 
range of the subconsciousness after the study of the phe- 
nomena is completed. 




ONE day in April Miss Beauchamp reported the mys- 
terious disappearance of some money. In the early 
days of her trials I had on several occasions discovered for 
her the whereabouts of lost ^ articles, either by hypnotizing 
her and questioning B II and Sally, or by producing a 
" cr}'^stal " vision. Miss Beauchamp now applied for aid 
in recovering her money. She was sorely worried. To be 
constantly plagued by Sally as she had been was bad 
enough, but to begin now losing money was a matter 
of anxiety. It goes without saying that whenever any- 
thing went wrong suspicion always at once fell on the sub- 
conscious " devil," but in this case we did her satanic 
ladyship a gross injustice. 

On hypnotizing Miss Beauchamp she became, not Sally, 
as had been the case of late, but B II, who had not been 
seen for a long time. Presently the old struggle of the 
hands began. In spite of B IPs resistance, the hands at- 
tempted to rub her eyes as they used to do before Sally's 
advent as a personality. Suspecting that Sally was at 
work, I held the hands, being obliged to use considerable 
force, and gave commands that the hypnotic B II should 
keep her hands still, etc. In reply to this B II kept re- 
peating that she could n't help it, that she did not know 
what she was doing, that she wanted to rub her eyes, 
etc., etc. 

1 That ifl, when absentmindedly mislaid, or when taken by Sally. 


The battle between B II and the hands, as I watched it, 
gave the impression of severance of control on the part of 
the former, who did not seem to be clearly conscious of 
what she was doing. It was as if some invisible stranger 
had hold of her arms and was trying to wrest them from 
my grasp and to use them regardless of the owner, who also 
endeavored to keep control and to prevent their being used. 
This struggle went on for some ten minutes : at one time B 
II would obtain control and the hands would become quiet ; 
then the invisible stranger would return to the attack and 
the struggle would be renewed ; then the hands would gain 
the ascendency and I would be obliged to come to B IPs 
assistance and hold them by main force. Finally, I let go 
to see what would happen. Immediately the hands began 
to rub her eyes, and then, as I suspected would be the 
case, her eyes almost immediately opened and Sally ap- 
peared laughing. 

The battle was only another of many instances of the 
second consciousness acting coincidently with the first ; the 
two consciousnesses willing, acting, and thinking along sep- 
arate and opposed lines at one and the same time. An 
automatic phenomenon of this kind requires to be seen to 
be appreciated. Several instances of automatisms actu- 
ally observed have already been given in a preceding chap- 
ter. They were very common and were not confined to 
movements of the limbs. Over and over again I have 
witnessed such things as this : While impressing on B I or 
B II that she was or was not to do something contrary to 
what was known to be Sally's wish, suddenly out of the 
depths, so to speak, would come like an explosion a deep, 
" I won't," or " I will." The voice would be changed in 
tone to a bass note and be accompanied by a momentary 
expression on her face, not easy to describe or pleasant 
to look upon. The voice was Jacob's voice, but the hands 
were the hands of Esau. After this Miss Beauchamp, all 


oblivious^ of the incident, would speak naturally, as if 
nothing had happened. Or the automatism would take a 
sensory form, that of an auditory illusion. The plain 
words of my command would be perverted and be heard 
by Miss Beauchamp as illusory words having the contrary 
meaning. Thus Miss Beauchamp would understand me to 
say the opposite of what I really said. This could be 
brought out by having Miss Beauchamp repeat what she 
believed had been said to her. 

One of the most curious of these automatisms was the 
flashing of Sally's facial expression — revealing her pres- 
ence and amusement — through Miss Beauchamp's sadness. 
This is the way it would happen : I would be talking with 
Miss Beauchamp when she was in a state of depression, 
her face weary and sad. Suddenly the gleeful expression 
of Sally would fliish over it momentarily, as if Sally's joy 
at the scene was too intense to be hidden. These were 
some of the ways by which Sally would seek to circumvent 
every attempt at control, and sometimes, to my chagrin, 
she succeeded. 

To return to the incident just described : Pretending 
ignorance of the reason for B II's rubbing her eyes, I 
asked Sally if she knew why B II had done it, thus assum- 
ing that it had been B II. Sally immediately replied, " I 
did it." 

I questioned her statement, as was my habit in order to 
draw her out, denied her power, and demanded that she 
explain how she could do it when she was not present. 

Her reply was, " I am always present. I can make her 
do things : I have told you that over and over again, lots 
of times. I wanted to get her eyes open. If her eyes 

1 The primary consciousness, it will be noted, was unconscious of having 
spoken : the phenomenon thus differs from that other type of automatic 
speech already described (telling lies), where the'subject knows what is said. 
The difference depends on the extent of dissociation of consciousness. 


were open she would not be here ; I should be here. You 
told her I should not come any more, and I wanted to 
come." (Laughs.)^ 

The search for the lost money led to a h3rpnotic vision,! 
according to which the money had dropped, unnoticed by 
Miss Beauchamp, out of a book which she was reading. 
The money had fallen upon the window-sill, and had been 
blown out by a draught upon the deep ledge of the coping 
outside the window in the mansard roof. There was no 
opportunity to verify the vision ; in fact, it scarcely seemed 
possible to do so. Whether it was true or not, therefore, 
cannot be stated, if the testimony of Sally (given in part 
below) be disregarded. Nevertheless the vision had serious 
consequences for Miss Beauchamp. Such careless absent- 
mindedness was not to be condoned, was the judgment of 
her subconscious guardian. After learning the content of 
the vision. Miss Beauchamp returned home to hunt for the 
money, if by chance it had lodged in the gutter. (Miss 
Beauchamp had frequently found in this gutter lost articles 
wliich had fallen off the window-sill.) On this occasion it 
was not she who found the lost money, if Sally is to be 
believed, for a day or two later the following was received 
from Sally : 

"It is really a very long time since I wrote you, isn't it? 
and lots of things have been happening that I want to tell you 
about, so you won't be cross with me for sending you this? 
* She ' does n't even read my letters now, so that it is only ex- 
asperating writing her, and I must talk to some one, you know. 
Was n't it curious, part * of the money was really there in the 
gutter, all curled up in a disreputable heap; and I rescued it 
and have hidden it where she can never, never find it, for she is 
not responsible, you know, and I am going to take charge of all 

* In hypnosis the suggestion had been given that B I should not go into 
trances any more. 

2 Sally found, as she claimed later, a $2 bill and two $1 bills; originally 
there was $7 in all, so that $3 must have blown away. 


such things and allow her only ten cents to amuse herself with. 
But she does n't care apparently for anything I may do, and 
it is trying. Won't you speak severely to her, Dr. Prince, 
please? I am sure it would do her no end of good. I do want 
you to. And she has destroyed all those pictures * of you — 
every one — which were n't really hers anyway, and 1 miss them. 
She had much better have destroyed the absurd books that she 
buries herself in — they are full of such ' stuff.' I would send 
you the slips if I were not sure of being sat upon for playing 
tricks. Hoping this may find you neither tired nor sorry, but 
very happy, I remain," 

" P. S. I don't like [the name] Sally, for it is very childish, 
but it does n't matter. ' She ' swears too, and is degenerating 
awfully. Is that psychological ? " 

Miss Beauchamp had indeed cause to repent bitterly of 
her absentmindedness and lack of care, for she was pun- 
ished by being put upon an aUowance which was doled 
out to her in amounts of from five to ten cents a day. It 
was about twenty-four hours after returning home that 
she received a note from Sally with the first instalment. 
The note said, in substance, that she could have ten cents 
to amuse herself with, but no more, and that henceforth 
the writer was going to take charge of her finances. The 
rest of her money was thereupon confiscated and a deluge 
of letters followed, reminding Miss Beauchamp in no 
gentle way, that she was not fitted to take care of money, 
that she was an incapable, and declaring that she was to 
be put upon an allowance. The sum, however, was never 
fixed. Sometimes it proved to be five cents, and some- 
times two cents. At other times she would find ten cents 
lying on a sheet of paper with a message accompanying it. 
Sometimes it would be rolled up in a package or in an 
envelope, and left somewhere about the room. If she re- 
fused to open or read the letters, a piece of paper, on which 

* Some drawings (caricatures ?) of Sally's. 


a saucy message was written, would be pinned up on the 
wall where she could not help seeing it. 

No amount of pleading would induce Sally to allow Miss 
Beauchamp to have more money than her allowance. Thus 
was Miss Beauchamp corrected for her carelessness. 

But this was only a small part of the torment to which 
she was subjected. Her punishment did not end here. 
Her postage stamps were taken, and with her small allow- 
ance she did not have money enough to buy them or to 
pay street-car fares. So, in the want of the latter, she 
walked ; and as for letters, when she wrote one, she was 
compelled by her tyrant to place it on the table for ap- 
proval. If it was approved, she found it stamped and was 
allowed to post it ; if not approved, it did not go, and that 
was the end of it. " She writes too many letters," said 
Sally. " She sha'n't write, excepting to people whom I 
choose, and she sha'n't have any money excepting what I 
give her." 

Miss Beauchamp has a nervous antipathy to spiders, 
snakes, and toads ; she abhors them to a degree that con- 
tact with them throws her into a condition of terror. One 
day she found in her room a small box neatly tied up, as 
if it were a present for herself. On opening it six spiders 
ran out. " She screamed," said Sally, " when she opened 
the box, and they ran out all over the room." It turned out 
that Sally had gone into the country and gathered these 
spiders as a treat for Miss Beauchamp, On other occasions, 
there is reason to believe that Sally provided snakes. 

One of Miss Bcauchamp's constant trials was to find a 
piece of worated work she was making unravelled as fast 
as she made it. She had been asked by a very dear friend 
(Mrs. X.) to make a baby's blanket. Her heart was in the 
work and she was anxious to finish it. She had worked at 
it for months, but often complained to me that whenever it 
neared completion she would find it almost wholly unrav- 



elled. Then, like Sisyphus, she would have to begin her 
task all over again. Finally, when at last the blanket was 
finished and ready to send, the climax came. Sally pulled 
the whole of it to pieces, and drawing out the yam wound 
it round about the furniture, carrying it from picture to 
picture, back to the different articles of furniture, then 
round herself many times, then back to the furniture, 
finally hiding the ends somewhere in the bed. Then 
Sally, standing in the midst of this perfect tangle of 
yarn, wakened Miss Beauchamp, who came to herself 
in the maze. So great was the tangle that she had to cut 
^ the yarn to get out. 

; Another of Sally's pranks which had serious conse- 
* quences to Miss Beauchamp's health was to take her on 
walks too long for her strength. On one occasion she 
went out into a suburban town ( Watertown) and there took 
a long walk, so far beyond Miss Beauchamp's strength that 
it left the latter exhausted. Miss Beauchamp came to her- 
self in this suburb, weary and helpless, unable to recognize 
the place, and ignorant of the waj'^ home. 

One very curious phenomenon was the difference be- 
tween the physical condition of Sally and that of Miss 
Beauchamp after a fatiguing walk of this kind. On this 
occasion two days later Miss Beauchamp was still extremely 
fatigued and worn out. Then suddenly changing in my 
presence to Sally, this personage appeared perfectly fresh 
and unaffected by the walk. Then changing back to 
Miss Beauchamp, the fatigue returned with the change 
of personality. 

Sally's enjoyment at making Miss Beauchamp tell non- 
sensical lies has already been related, as well as the way 
this young scapegrace would spend the latter's money. I 
do not think I have mentioned how Sally took advantage 
of Miss Beauchamp's sense of dignity. Knowing this feel- 
ing was acute, Sally, to punish her, would make her sit 


with her feet on another chair, or even on the mantelpiece. 
Miss Beauchamp could not take her feet down, but would 
have to sit there undergoing the torture of mortification. 
On numerous occasions (Miss Beauchamp now says " innu- 
merable ") Sally tore up many manuscript pages of her 
school work, the product of much labor. She used to try 
her best at times to prevent Miss Beauchamp's doing things 
the latter wanted to do ; then Miss Beauchamp would feel 
an "irresistible impulse," as if "possessed," as she de- 
scribed it. 

Of course, Sally, on the principle of giving a dog a bad 
name, got blamed for much she did not do. Naturally, 
when anything went wrong she was the first to be sus- 
pected. Although it amused her to make Miss Beauchamp 
miserable, nevertheless at times, when she went too far 
and Miss Beauchamp became ill from anxiety, Sally would 
be alarmed and would write me a letter asking for help, 
saying she could " not do anything with Miss Beauchamp " ; 
and that I " really must help " her. 

The above are but a small number of the practical jokes 
which Sally played on her other self. It would seem as if 
practical jokes and hazing were trials enough for one per- 
son to bear ; but of all the trials which Miss Beauchamp 
had to undergo, I think what she minded most were the 
lettei-s she received from her other self. She was deluged 
with letters ; and if she refused to read them Sally would 
pin upon the wall sheets of paper with messages written 
thereon, and so placed that she could not help seeing them. 
Sally knew her sensitiveness, her keen sense of honor, as 
well as all her little weaknesses, and these she played upon 
in a highly artistic manner. Then again Sally would 
wi'ite letters to different people, telling all sorts of thmgs 
about Miss Beauchamp's private affaire, exaggerating and 
distorting them beyond recognition, and even telling things 
not true. She would describe extraordinary and impos- 


sible things she proposed to do, pretended engagements 
objectionable to Miss Beauchamp, — all of which was suffi- 
cient to frighten the latter out of her senses. These letters 
Sally had no intention of sending, but she would leave 
them open where they could be read by Miss Beauchamp, 
who, taking them seriously, would be made to feel she 
lived over a dynamite magazine. Sometimes, however, 
Sally would actually send letters which expressed her own 
peculiar ideas. These naturally would be extremely disa- 
greeable to Miss Beauchamp, who would learn of them 
from her friends or from the letters received in reply. 

Of all thejo letters, perhaps the most diabolical and the 
most troublesome for me were those in which Sally misrep- 
resented my attitude towards Miss Beauchamp. For in- 
stance, she wrote B I that I accused her of not keeping 
her word and of telling untruths, and that I was so annoyed 
with her that I wished her never to come again for treat- 
ment. _Sally's game was to prevent Miss Beauchamjp's 
-being th e obj ect of pare. In spite of constant warnings 
not to believe Sally's statements, B I always accepted them 
as true. A despairing letter from her would follow, de- 
claring her ignorance of everything she had ever done in 
her "lapses," and asking forgiveness for anything that was 
displeasing. Here is a letter from Sally to me which 
suggests her state of mind in relation to Miss Beauchamp : 

" You are a perfectly charming correspondent — much more 
interesting and unconventional than Jones — and I am sure I 
shall enjoy writing to you no end, especially if you continue to 
ignore everything I tell you. Do you fancy that makes one 
feel snubbed and repentant ? because it does n't, the least little 
bit in the world. I am ' made of sterner stuff,' as the books 
say. The enclosed youth ^ I am much interested in, and hope 
you will appreciate his expression, which is strongly like Miss 
Beauchamp's during the wee sma' hours when she cannot 

1 An illostration cut from one of Miss Beauchamp's favorite books. 


sleep. Don't show it to lier on any account, for it is taken 
from one of her cherished books, and she might perhaps not 

The following are a few of the letters Miss Beauchamp 
received from the same correspondent. The great mass of 
them was destroyed, as many referred to private matters 
in a disagreeable way, and Miss Beauchamp felt so keenly 
the mortification of her acts that it was with difficulty she 
could be prevailed upon to show the letters. 

"The enclosed with my compliments, Mistress Chris, and 
you will permit me to congratulate you on so successful an 
issue to your evening's work. After this you will hardly have 
need of me or of my assistance in your financial afifairs. I 
regret not having the proverbial shilling for you, yet you are 
' such a sweet child ' that I know you won't murmur. Are you 

going to tell all about ? It would be awfully nice and 

unconventional, and he would appreciate your confiding in him, 
I am sure, almost if not quite as much as Dr. Prince himself. 
Do tell him. I hope you may enjoy life very much indeed dur- 
ing these next few weeks. 1 am going to make it just as lively 
and interesting for you as I possibly can, and you know that 
means a great deal when I say it. Does n't your fancy conjure 
up all sorts of visions ? You shall have all my thought and care 
and attention to keep you from brooding. Think of it ! Your 
knight sans peiir and sans reproche could hardly do more, how- 
ever you might thrill and agonize for him. He 's not exactly 
interested you know, as I am, and of course cannot help getting 
awfully tired of you. But I sha'n't tire — not till ' stoodent C. 
is very dead and puts a bullet through her head.' How long 
will that be, do you think? Days, weeks, — not longer, surely, 
for you love your friends, you know, and would not cause them 
a moment's pain. You never did, dear, did you? You will 
sacrifice yourself at the earliest opportunity." 

" If you do not write Nan immediately — this very day — I 
shall, and I give you fair warning that I shall entertain her at 
your expense — not a difficult thing, you know, and it would 


please her immensely, I am sure. Also, I do not approve of 
the blue book, and shall sew up your skii't again if you read it.^ 
Remember ! " 

"I have such good news for you, my dearest Chris. Just 
fancy, Z. knows where there is a whole colony of lovely cool, 
green snakes — little slippery, sliddery ones, you know — and 
I 'm going to get them to amuse you at night and keep you from 

dreaming of your dear . Are n't you glad ? But I know 

you 're not the least little bit grateful — but you will be before 
we have finished our course together. Do you smart to-daj', 
awfully? It's good for you, you know; you must always 
remember that, Chris, dear. I enclose a stamp for you too." 

" You little wretch ! What did you kill my nice spiders for? 
I wish they 'd bitten you all over. It would have served you 
just exactly right for destroying things that don't belong to 
you. ' Soul of honor ' indeed ! ' How are the mighty fallen ! ' 
You were a thief to touch my pictures, and a wicked, wicked 
girl ! You had nothing to do with them. They were all mine, 
and you shall wear the sack for your sins. There are more 
spiders, and there are caterpillars too, all squashy, if the sack 
is not happiness enough for you." 

" It was a horribly mean advantage to take of any one. Mis- 
tress Chris, and you know it, and you shall be punished for it. 
I have the greatest mind in the world to send the letter directly 
to Dr. Prince, and then you 'd see whether even for her sake 
he 'd tolerate you. I never heard of anything so outrageous, 
and yet you are proud, yes, and honorable, and quite shocked 
at your humble servant's disregard of conventions. How I hate 
you for a hypocrite ! But I must not spare the rod, for by it 
you may be saved even yet. It will be better after all than an 
appeal to Dr. Prince. He does " — [Remainder of letter lost.] 

" How awfully amusing you are, my dear, with all your shifts 
and evasions ; but you cannot escape me so. You are to do just 
exactly what I tell you concerning Z., and moreover you are to 

* Sally at night used to sew np Miss Beanchamp's clothes, so that \n the 
morning, when in a harry, she could not get into them. 


do it at once. I simply won't have this nonsense about B. 

You shall love J , always and forever, or if you don't you 

ought to and you shall. I will make you — just make 3'ou — you 
wicked, wicked girl. Do you want to be all bluggy and wear 
the sack again? One would certainly think so, and if it comes 
to it I won't deny you. You may have until evening to con- 
sider, and then, ' O, I 'm sorry for Mrs. Bluebeard, sorry to 
cause her pain, but a terrible spree there 's sure to be when I 
come back again,' if you have n't done as 1 told you. There is 
none to help you — no, not one. We all hate j'ou. Only some- 
times occasionally one pities you a little for being such an 
idiot and tries to help you, but it is useless. My way is better. 
B. is a goose, and so is ." 

These notes were enclosed in the following from Miss 
Beauchamp to the writer: 

' ' I am sending you with this such of the notes as I have 
been able to find. There are more doubtless, scattered about, 
and I shall be very glad to send you those too as I come across 
them, if you think they would be of any interest. Sally's feel- 
iug toward rae is very strong, as you know, and she does not 
hesitate to give expression to it both by word and deed. I 
have shrunk from telling you much of the 'discipline' to which 
you will find reference in some of the letters, and don't think it 
is necessary to do so even now, except, perhaps, for your fuller 
comprehension. The other notes referred to, I think you under- 
stand as well, or perhaps much better than I do myself. [Let- 
ter goes on to state what seem to be the principal ' grievances 
in Sally's mind ' and then continues ;] Most of the letters in which 
she enlarges upon this I have unfortunately destroyed, for 1 did 
not want them to fall into any one's hands. They were really 
dreadful. . . . One would almost swear she was bitterly jealous. 
Oh, Dr. Prince, save me from her, from myself, from whatever 
it is that is so absolutely merciless ! I can bear the ' sack,' 
' discipline,' anything that is physical — but not the mockery of 
this devil. You cannot imagine the torture I have endured in 
these few months — no one could. 

"But this brings me to your letter [written to tell her that 


Sally's message to the effect that she was to be dismissed was 
untrue, etc.] . . . No one has the slightest control over this 
devil that possesses me save you. You won't leave me to its 


The child mind in Sally's compositions is too obvious to 
be dwelt upon. The letters remind one of the way in 
which a child might upbraid her doll ; and yet Sally could 
write kindly, sympathetic letters — childlike too — of which 
I have often been the recipient. She affected to Miss Beau- 
champ to dislike any one whom Miss Beauchamp held in 
esteem, and yet I knew from personal knowledge that 
Sally held some of these persons in equal regard. Sally 
and the writer were the best of friends, though she made 
Miss Beauchamp believe the contrary. In judging Sally, 
all this must be kept in mind. But Sally hated Miss 
Beauchamp, and the secret of her hatred was unquestion- 
ably jealousy, as Miss Beauchamp suspected, Sally fre- 
quently complained that everybody seemed to care about 
what was going to become of Miss Beauchamp, but nothing 
about her own fate. She felt hurt too that she was told 
she was childish and irresponsible and broke her promises, 
while Miss Beauchamp was treated with great respect. 
"Nobody cares what becomes of me," she would repeat. 
Then she felt her lack of mental accomplishments as com- 
pared with Miss Beauchamp. And even when made much 
of by friends who did not know of the split in the family, 
she knew that the attentions were intended for Miss Beau- 
champ and not for herself. 

[Notebook] April 28, 1899. " As Sally had been tormenting 
Miss Beauchamp, I took occasion to upbraid her. In answer 
to the question why she behaved so badly, she replied, ' I hate 
her, and I won't give her any more money, and I won't give her 
any more postage stamps. I just hate her more and more! ' 

" ' But why do you hate her ? You are only hating yourself, 
for she is yourself,' 


" ' No, she is n't.' [With resentment.] 

" ' Yes, she is.' 

" ' No, she is n't. I won't have it so ! We are not the same 
person. We don't think alike, and we don't have the same 
thoughts,' etc., etc. Her indignation increased, and she ended 
again with, 'I certainly hate her. She thinks she won't let me 
come [that is, into active existence as Sally]. She has been say- 
ing it all day. I made her stay awake all last night, and I will 
to-night, and I will every night. I am going to make a collec- 
tion of other things too besides spiders. I am going to do every- 
thing I can think of, and I can think of all sorts of things when 
I try hard. I tried to cut off her hair the other day, but she 
woke up before I could do it. I think the scissors waked her 

" ' You will cut off your own hair ; it is your hair.' 

[Laughing.] " ' I don't care. She will look a guy — just like 
one of those monkeys. I don't care how I look.' 

" A few minutes later, after discussing the way the spiders 
ran out of the box, Sally burst out with, ' I wish she were 

' ' ' Dead and buried ? ' 

" ' Yes, only I don't know where I should be.* 

" ' Well, where would you be? ' 

" At this question she manifested much displeasure, as It sug- 
gested horrid possibilities ; she was unwilling to continue the 
conversation, but as I persisted she finally remarked, ' 1 don't 
see how I could be dead, but I suppose I would have to be.' 
[Sally never liked to admit that she and Miss Beauchamp were 
one person.] 

" ' Why would you have to be?' 

" I don't know. I don't think it would be nice to be all 
mouldy and shut up in a box with nasty worms and things.' 
Her mobile face as she said this was most expressive of these 
horrible possibilities. She seemed to think it possible for her- 
self to be alive while Miss Beauchamp was dead, and yet she 
could not reconcile this idea with what she knew of material 
things. (There is some logic in this, as in her present life she 
regards IVIiss Beauchamp and speaks of her, though in a meta- 
phorical sense as ' dead ' when she, Sally, is in existence. At 


such times Sally has no consciousness of Miss Beauchamp's 
existence. 'Where is she now?' Sally often asks.) 

" ' You both have the same arms and legs, have n't you? ' I 


' ' ' Then if her arn[is and legs were all mouldy, yours would be 
too, would n't they ? ' 

"This capped her displeasure, and as she seemed to think it 
must be so she refused to talk more about it." 



IN June of this year (1899) there occurred some impor- 
tant developments which were not only of psychological 
interest, but which were destined to give an entirely new 
aspect to the case. Another personality appeared. Up 
to this time the psychological problem had been compara- 
tively simple. Two persons had been contending for the 7 
mastery of life, each insisting on her own prerogative to ' 
live, but there had been no doubt about which was the 
Real Miss Beauchamp. Now a third person came upon 
the scene; one whom we had never met before, but who 
seemed quite as much a real person as did the Miss Beau- ; 
champ whom we all knew. " Where did she come from ? " 
"How did she get here?" and "Who is she?" were the 
questions. Her advent plainly brought new problems to 
be solved, and raised doubts about the identity and origin 
of our old friend. More than this, her coming brought 
new complications into the life of Miss Beauchamp, who 
had more and sorer trials to undergo, worse than any- 
thing she had as yet passed through. I shall give in con- 
siderable detail the circumstances under which this new 
personality came, in order that no doubt about the absolute 
spontaneity of her origin may be raised : 

One day (the evening of June 7) I was summoned to 
visit Miss Beauchamp at her house. On my arrival I 
found her in a condition of intense nervous agitation, and 
looking extremely fatigued and depressed. So nervous 
was she that she was scarcely able to keep her limbs in 
repose a moment. She had left my office in good condition 


only a few lioura before, and the sudden change was diffi- 
cult to understiind. It was not until several months after- 
ward, in the autumn, that the real exciting cause of this 
evening's events was revealed, — a mental shock of great 
significance, which, unknown to me, she had received that 
afternoon shortly after leaving my house. I will narrate 
the events in the order in which they were disclosed: 

On my arrival, as I have said, Miss Beauchamp exhib- 
ited great depression, fatigue, and nervousness, a condition 
usually observed in her when under mental strain. She 
was reticent, answering questions in monosyllables, and 
volunteered almost no information. She was anything 
but sociable. Her reticence seemed to amount to an 
aboulia, and she gave the impression that something was 
on her mind. After a few minutes of this an extraordinary 
change came over her. She appeared natural, tranquil in 
mind and body, and sociable. All nervousness and signs 
of fatigue ceased. She was without aboulia and chatted 
pleasantly; in fact, seemed a new character, healthy- 
minded, and with every bit of reserve gone. I had never 
seen her so natural and sociably disposed, and the change 
was puzzling. A few moments before she had complained 
of insomnia, which had frequently played havoc with her 
nerves, and as this is always easily controlled by sugges- 
tion, I arose from my seat and approaching her made a 
gesture as if to stroke her forehead and eyelids for the pur- 
pose of inducing hypnosis. To my surprise she strongly 
resented this, saying, "No one shall do that but Dr. 
Prince." It was evident, then, in spite of her naturalness, 
that she had a hallucination and mistook me for some one 
else. I asked her for some writing paper for notes. She 
walked across the room and brought me some sheets of 
blue note paper and some of white. ^ On these I made the 
notes from which this account is written. 

1 These and other details are important, as will later appear a^ the evi- 
dence is brought out. 


"Am I not Dr. Prince?" I said in reply to her last 

"You know you are not." 

"Who am I?" 

"You ought to know," 



"What am I?" [Refemng to my profession.] 

" You ought to know." Then, offended as if I had been 
flippant, "Don't talk that way." 

I persisted in maintaining my identity, trying every sort 
of argument to prove it. At first she treated my state- 
ments as a joke ; then responsively played her part, saying 
that, if I would have it so and wished to play that part 
it should be so, only she knew I was n't Dr. Prince. She 
was bright, lively, and quick at badinage. There was 
nothing for me to do but accept the situation and play the 
part of William Jones. Presently she asked, "Why do 
you come here? You run great risks." 


"You ought to know. I am not going to preach," etc., 
etc. " Things are different from what they were ten years 

Her whole mental attitude showed that she believed 
that I, as Jones, knew the facts and circumstances as well 
as she did, and therefore what was the use of masquer- 
ading? But I was entirely in the dark as to the meaning 
of it all, particularly as I did not suppose at the time that 
she imagined herself somewhere else than in Boston. 

"How do I risk anything?" I persisted. 

"You risk breaking your neck, for one thing," she 

This answer puzzled me, but in reply to my question 
as to how she supposed I camo there, she answered, " Of 
course you came through the window." 


As we were on the third floor of the house, this answer, 
though in my ignorance it appeared to explain the joke, 
seemed to me at the time some fantastic idea. I denied 
this statement, so after some fencing she asked facetiously, 
"Did you knock at the door?" 

I explained that I had rung the front-door bell in the 
customary way and had asked for her. 

[Horrified. ] " You did n't ! " 

"Why not?" 

" You know why not. I never saw any one so absolutely 

As a matter of fact, I did not see why William Jones, 
or I myself, or any one else should not ask for her at the 
door in that way. (It is only completely intelligible by 
the light of later revelations.) But remembering Miss 
Beauchamp's views, and what I knew of the affair, I 
attributed it (wrongly) to social considerations. After 
some further discussion, in which she still insisted upon 
the unwisdom of my coming, but at the same time took it 
all in the spirit of a lark, I put a series of questions to her 
to determine whether her memory was continuous for the 
events of the evening, — that is to say, whether she was 
in the same state of consciousness as at the time of my 
arrival, when she recognized me as Dr. Prince. 

"Who was here a minute ago?" 

"There wasn't any one here." 

[In a surprised tone.] "What! there wasn't?" 

"No. You are perfectly mad." 

Again I repeated the question, insisting emphatically 
that some one had been there, but again she insisted upon 
the contrary, as if the question were an utter absurdity 
and it was impossible any one could have been there. 
(This tone also struck me at the time as curious.) 

Coming directly to the point, I asked, "Wasn't Dr. 
Prince here ? " 


" What an absurd question! " 

"Well, was n't he?" 

"Why, no." 

I insisted that he had been. 

"It is absurd." 

"Why is it absurd? He is your physician." 

"I don't require him." 

"Yes, you do." 

"Not here.^ I am not sick enough for that." 

"They told me downstairs," I continued, "that he was 

" What on earth did you come here for, then ? " (The 
recklessness of my conduct at once strikes her.) 

I repeat my last remark, but she replies, "Will, you 
know perfectly well that isn't true." 

It was thus i^iade plain that Miss Beauchamp had no 
memory for the events of the early part of the visit when 
she had recognized me. Her memory was not continuous 
for the whole evening, but went back only to the moment 
when the outward visible change came over her. It was 
also plain that a change of some kind had occurred since 
my entrance, and that I was either dealing with something 
different from any state I had met before, or else that 
Miss Beauchamp herself had suddenly become free from 
her peculiar stigmata, but at the same time the victim of 
amnesia and an illusion. The change in character and 
physical condition, and the cleavage in memory pointed 
to the former view ; just as the perfectly logical attitude 
of her mind, the normality of her character, her spon- 
taneity, and the absence of all nervousness, rendered the 
latter hypothesis improbable. But there still remained 
much that was puzzling. 

If on the other hand she was B I and was the subject of 
an illusion, the latter was not extraordinary as I had 
1 Note the reference to the locality. 


known Miss Beauchamp, when nervously ill, and even 
when in hypnosis, to have illusions, but it was difficult to 
reconcile it with her amnesia for the early part of the 
evening and at the same time with her normality in other 
respects. I did not realize at this time, what I afterward 
learned, that she imagined hei-self in a distant city. There- 
fore it seemed odd that she should believe I had come in 
through the window — the room was on the third story — 
and that she should be disturbed because I (Jones) had 
asked for her at the door. Still I put it down to a freak 
of delirium, or to an idea of a breach of the social con- 
venance. The real reason appeared only in the sequel. 
1/ But I would again emphasize certain peculiarities of her 
delusion which have great significance, and which should 
be kept in mind. First, I was mistaken for some one else; 
second, she mistook her surroundings ; third, she thought 
that I, as another person, had come in by the window; 
fourth, my visit was a great indiscretion, and it was un- 
desirable that any one should know of my being there. 
(Even supposing I were Jones there did not seem to be 
any reason for this.) Fifth, she did not require Dr. P. 
(myself) in the place where she supposed herself to be. 

All these details afterwards became clear when the true 
explanation of this episode was found. At the moment, 
so marked was the change, the question arose whether this 
was a real peraonality, distinct from Miss Beauchamp, 
and if so, who it was, and why these illusions. It plainly 
was not Sally; and Sally herself, who came later, dis- 
claimed the identity. At the moment, making the test 
for anesthesia,^ it was found that cutaneous sensation was 
normal ; but on giving her a French book she was unable 
to read it, as Miss Beauchamp could do; so that she 
lacked certain peculiarities of Sally and B I, respectively. 

^ One of the tests for Sail}', who, it will be remembered, had a peculiar 
form of anesthesia. 


On further testing her memory, what seemed a contra- 
dictory condition developed; namely, she remembered 
many incidents, but not all of that same day, though she 
must have experienced these as B I. So that if she was 
a personality distinct from B I, then her relation to B I 
seemed on this evidence to be like that of B II or B III;^ 
or the cleavage was not complete, and, on her side at 
least, her consciousness dovetailed into that of Miss Beau- 
champ. I may anticipate here by saying that the true 
explanation, which developed some time later, showed 
that this knowledge of B I's later life was more apparent 
than real, and that it consisted of fragmentary, abbrevi- 
ated, and occasional sort-of-clairvoyant glimpses, which 
offered for study some very interesting psychological 
phenomena. 2 These came automatically out of the depths, 
without logical conscious associations, and contributed 
temporarily to a wrong understanding of her memory. 
As a matter of fact, the cleavage was, or shortly became, 
complete, and the new personality, for such it proved 
to be, had no direct consciousness of the events of B I's 
life. These facts are mentioned here for the sake of 
completeness, and to show some of the difficulties of the 
problem at this time. Her knowing some of the occur- 
rences of the day misled me into thinking that she had a 
wider knowledge. 

Thus spontaneously in my presence a new personality 
was born. 

After observing her for some time it became essential 
that the illusion regarding my identity should be dispelled. 
This was finally accomplished by showing her my name 
engraved in the back of my watch. The effect was pecu- 

1 That is, she knew Miss Beauchamp's life. 

2 See Chapter XV. Of this character was the apparent knowledge of me 
implied by her remark that no one should hypnotize her but Dr. Prince 
(page 172). 



liar. As she gazed at it she seemed for the moment con- 
founded. "How did you come by that?" she asked, 
astonished, and as she tried to reconcile in her mind my 
(Jones's) possession of another person's watch, she became 
abstracted and confused; a change came over her, and 
suddenly Miss Beauchamp reappeared with entire oblivion 
of everything that had happened since her disappearance. 

r" Later still, Sally came, but she was unable to throw 
light upon the new personality. She noticed her pecu- 
liarities, including her amnesia for the early events of the 
evening, and her apparent memory for other events in Miss 
Beauchamp's life, such as having been hypnotized by me; 
but nevertheless Sally insisted, and to this she adhered 
for a long time with pertinacity, that " She " was not a 
"person." "There are not three of us, and there sha'n't 
be, and that 's all there is about it," she declared.^ 

A day or two after this episode the new personality 
walked into my consulting room. This time, completely 
free from her illusion, she addressed me by name, but 
manifested an air of formality such as might have been 
shown by any patient with whom one has not a long-stand- 
ing acquaintance. Indeed, she was conspicuously formal 
in her attitude, more so than Miss Beauchamp had ever 
been. There was no difficulty in recognizing her as the 
^ new personality, but so far as the extent of her memory 
went, everything seemed to be so much a matter of course 
with her on this occasion that I was misled. She remem- 
bered, or rather professed to remember, her illusion of 
taking me for Jones on the evening of June seventh, but 
could not give an explanation of it. In manner she was 
very quiet and composed, much as she had been on her 
first appearance, — and strikingly different from Miss 

1 In the months that followed, Sally at times studied this new personality 
with considerable interest and intelligence, and contributed considerably to 
our knowledge of her. 


Beauchamp. She was affable and agreeable in conversa- 
tion, and did not exhibit the slightest evidence of aboulia. 
She conversed as if she had the same knowledge of past 
events as had B I, B II, and Sally. It did not occur to 
me at this time, so cleverly she acted her part, and so mis- 
led was I by the previous knowledge shown, to question 
this assumption. By her conversation she allowed, or 
rather encouraged, me to infer that she knew all about 
B 1,1 just as B II and Sally did. The time was not propi- 
tious for a thorough investigation, which would probably 
have been resented, so that the interview was little more 
than a social one. Her mental characteristics were strik- 
ingly different from those of B I, but to avoid repetition 
these will be mentioned later in connection with certain 
observations which give a deeper insight into the pecu- 
liarities of her character. 

Afterwards, when I began to revise my notes and to 
think over the interview, it was impressed upon me that 
this new member of the family volunteered very little 
information regarding the past, that it was I who spoke of 
past events and of herself as if she were familiar with all, 
and that she simply assented in a way to convey the im- 
pression that she knew everything. As a matter of fact, 
later revelations showed that at this second interview she 
was playing a part. She did know my name,^ and there- 
fore of course the character of my profession. But it is 
questionable whether she had any real knowledge based 
on past professional relations, or any real memory. Both 
she and Sally now say she did not. She now explains that 
from the professional character of the room, the drift of 
my questions, and my attitude towards her, she was able 
to infer much, to follow the leads given, and to avoid 
betraying her ignorance. Not being subjected at this 

^ That is, all about her life when B I was iu existence. 
2 Possibly from the doorplate. 


interview to a critical psychological examination, as after- 
wards was done, her replies to questions, if they were not 
direct fibs, were so adroitly framed that they intentionally 
conveyed the idea of familiarity with and knowledge of 
the subjects in question. 

It was only later, ^ when I made a thorough investigation 
of this personality, that it was discovered that her position 
was much like that of some one who had dropped from the 
planet Mars and found herself amongst people who were 
complete strangers to her, and with whom she had no 
sympathy or associations; but it was more than that, for 
she found these people knowing all about herself, talking 
about events of her immediate past of which she knew 
nothing, and yet which she was convinced from the evi- 
dence must be true. Determined not to give herself 
away, she cleverly parried dangerous questions. This 
meant also that she knew nothing of herself as B I or as" 
Sally, and therefore was ignorant that she had other per- 
sonalities. She believed herself the sole individuality and 
that she had no other life. This is an important fact to 
keep in mind if the psychological situation is to be under- 
stood. She soon came to be known as B IV, and by this 
title it will be convenient to speak of her now. From the 
time of her first appearance she kept changing places with 
the other two personalities, but knew nothing of what 
was done by either of them. She was ignorant of the 
places and persons associated with their lives. My office, 
for instance, as has just been stated, was strange to her; 
and many persons with whom she found herself in friendly 
relations she looked upon as total strangers. She would 
lose her way in the streets, and often wandered about 
hopelessly, disliking to ask her way and exhibit her igno- 
rance. Consequently, to inform herself, she was obliged 
to resort to guessing, inferring, and "fishing." She was 

1 Chapter XIV. 


keenly alert for every clew, and extraordinarily clever in 
"catching on." Sally, who became informer, noticed all 
this and had no patience with her.^ 

Now, it should be stated here that, although Sally 
knows 2 everything B IV does, nevertheless Sally does not 
know B IV 's thoughts. This in itself shows a very inter- 
esting psychological difference between the relations of 
Sally to B I and to B IV. Sally is conscious of B I's 
inmost soul; of B IV's mind she knows nothing; she can 
only infer B IV's thoughts from what she says and does. 
But Sally studied B IV closely, and arrived herself at the 
conclusion that B IV, in spite of her pretensions, knew 
nothing of the events of the past few years of Miss Beau- 
champ's life, but was always "fishing" for information 
and guessing. In her astonishment, — for Sally could 
not understand the meaning of this new personality, — she 
repeatedly exclaimed, '' Why, she doesn't know anything! 
She is alwaj's ' fishing ' and guessing! " 

Sally always spoke of her as "She," as she did of B I, 
and similarly refused to admit the identity with herself. 
It took Sally a long time to get accustomed to B IV's 
ignorance, for she, too, at first, was taken in by the new 
person's pretences; consequently there came to her a con- 
stant series of surprises in finding that the new one was 

1 The reader will probably wonder, as I did, how B IV happened to come 
to my office as she previously had not known me, and did not know where I 
lived, or that she as Miss Beauchamp was under my care. At the time of 
her visit, supposing that she had a thorough knowledge of the past, I inferred 
that she had come to fulfil an engagement made with Miss Beauchamp. 
Later, after her ignorance of the past was discovered, I elicited the fact that 
it was B I who had started to make the call, and on the way had changed 
several times, back and forth, with Sally and B IV. B IV walked on in a 
mechanical sort of way without any particular knowledge of what she was 
going to do. It was B I who had rung the door bell, changing on entering 
the house to B IV, then back again to B I on the staircase, finally entering 
the room as B IV. 

^ It is not necessary, at this time, to inquire whether her knowledge 
came to her directly as a subconsciousness, or afterwards as a memory while 
an alternating personality. (Compare Chapter IX.) 


ignorant of a large part at least of Miss Beauchamp's past 
life, and of all the present when B I and Sally were on 
the stage. Watching her intently, she found her doing 
and saying things that were incompatible with a knowl- 
edge of such periods, and also found that her remarks 
were largely based on the "fishing" and guessing. Nor 
could Sally understand why B IV did not know. When 
at last Sally discovered the new person's ignorance and 
her pretences, her contempt for her became unbounded. 
She dubbed her the "Idiot," and by this name B IV was 
known for a long time. I mention this to emphasize the 
ignorance of B IV in regard to her immediate surroundings, 
and to the facts of Miss Beauchamp's life. But later, 
when the opportunity offered to make a study of her, it 
turned out that this ignorance was not of Miss Beau- 
champ's whole life but only of the past few years. So 
that at some, as yet undetermined, period, her memory 
ceased for eveiything, and began again on the night of 
June 7, 1899. As B IV did not know of B I or Sally, 
there were, of course, gaps in her memory, corresponding 
to the times when the other two members of the family 
were present, and B IV showed great acuteness in trying 
to find out what happened at such times. 

It was not as easy as it would seem to be to determine 
the reality of this amnesia. For a long time I could not 
feel sure that she was conscious of the gaps, and that one 
period of consciousness did not seem to her to run into 
another, in spite of the interval of oblivion ; for our new 
friend resented as an impertinence all inquiry into her 
private affairs. Her attitude was perfectly intelligible. 
She found herself suddenly surrounded by strangers, who 
advised, directed, and controlled her life by some appar- 
ently occult power (though it was really through B I and 
Sally). One of these impertinent strangers, myself, most 
inquisitively pried into her thoughts and directed her life. 


She was quick-tempered (Sally called it a " nasty temper "), 
and this surveillance irritated her. Indeed she not only 
objected to any interference, but resented it as an imperti- 
nence. I must confess that, from her point of view, there 
was much to justify her attitude, and one can hardly blame 
her when her strange situation is kept in mind. She 
determined that submit she would not, and so did every- 
thing in her power to foil inquiry. ^ She refused to admit 
the gaps in her memory and declared that she knew every- 
thing. I mention all this here to show the difficulties 
besetting this study. Every interview during the early 
months of B IV's life began with tiresome sparring. Yet 
it was not difficult to convict her of ignorance by a few 
test questions aDout her doings when B I or Sally was in 
the flesh. After quibbling, evading, inferring, and guess- 
ing, she would break down and confess she did not know; 
and this was the fact. 

But whatever the memory of the "Idiot" for the facts 
of her life as B I, it was easy to show that our oldtime 
friend knew nothing regarding the "Idiot." The memory 
of B I was absolutely blank for everything that occurred, 
everything said and done in this new state. For a long 
time she never had a glimmer of a suspicion that there was 
anybody beside herself and Sally; and, indeed, imagined 
that when she was in this new state of consciousness she 
had simply "lost time," and had been masquerading as 
Sally. In fact, it too often happened that later Sally got 
the credit or discredit for many acts of which she was 

To summarize briefly the results of later long-continued 
study, B IV had individual peculiarities of character, of 
disposition, of tastes, of habits, of memory, and of phy- 
sique. Her physiological reactions to the environment, 

1 She later analyzed and wrote out for me an account of her mental atti- 
tude at this time. See Chapter XIV, p. 244. 


and her mental acquisitions, too, were in some respects 
different. Her state of health was different from that of 
B I. She was much more normal, more healthy in mind 
and in body than was Miss Beauchamp. She was without 
aboulia, had more self-control, more courage, less reserve, 
and in sum and substance, less and more of a number of 
peculiarities not difficult to describe, but which I prefer to 
let appear in connection with later phenomena. 

Thus the new mental condition exhibited by Miss Beau- 
champ was clearly shown to be a personality, and was 
rightfully given the title of B IV. 
r The relation of the different personalities then to one 
/ another was this: B I knew nothing of either of the other 
I two personalities; B IV knew apparently something, but 1 
j really nothing directly, beyond scrappy isolated memories, I 
I of B I and nothing of B III; B III knew all about the I 

I acts of the other two, but the thoughts of B 1 only. J 

And so it came about that, from this time on, three per- 
sonalities, instead of two, kept changing with one another. 
The social complications became at times hopeless. The 
length of time when each personality would be in existence 
wwiid yary.froma few minutes to several hours or days. 
Sometimes two would hold the field for several days, when 
the third would appear. On one occasion B I was absent, 
or " dead, " as Sally called it, for a month. I must defer 
to another chapter all but a reference to the extraordinary 
adventures and misunderstandings of these three persons, 
brought about in part by the ignorance of Miss Beauchamp 
and the "Idiot" of each other, and the consequent conflict 
of their plans and doings; in part by the difference in 
character of all three; and in part by the mischievousness 
of Sally, who concocted a little Midsummer Night's Dream 
of her own, and as Puck, with a little dash of lago, played 
her pranks on both. Some of these adventures were 
laughable, and some tragic. 


Thus a new problem had been brought into the situation 
which was this: Up to June 7, 1899, we had apparently 
Miss Beauchamp, neurasthenic and unstable, it is true, but 
still the primary personality, and a second person known 
as Sally, who may be termed a secondary personality. 
Now a third one had come, more normal in some respects 
than Miss Beauchamp. Who was she? — and for that 
matter who was who, and which was the Real Miss Beau- 
champ, or was any one of the family the real one? The 
normality of B IV threw suspicion on the identity of our 
Miss Beauchamp, the one whom we had known so long. 
Could it be possible that our Miss Beauchamp, the saint, 
was not real? The thought was startling. But the firet 
idea to suggest itself was that the new person was B II, 
who had of late largely dropped out of sight. If so, she 
was in a more highly developed state. But various con- 
siderations at once disposed of this idea. Sally, when 
questioned, asserted most positively that B IV was not 
B II, and gave various reasons for this assertion, the most 
cogent being that Sally knew nothing of the new person- 
ality's thoughts, although she knew all about those of B II. 
More than this, B IV, unlike B II, knew nothing of B I. 
Clearly, therefore, they could not be the same personal- 
ity. ^ Eliminating this theory there did not seem to be 
any law or order in the psychological developments. The 
question was what relation did the different personalities 
bear to one another. Which was the Real Miss Beau- 
champ? And there was the second important question, 
What was it that had brought them into being? or at 
least, What had happened that afternoon to bring the 
Idiot. The answer to this latter question I was not des- 
tined to learn for some months, and then it was found to 
be bound up with the mystery underlying this whole case. 

^ At a later period I was able to bring both B II and B IV as distinct 
dtates, and then it was found that B IV knew nothing of B II. 


With the exception of Sally, all seemed higgledy-piggledy. 
Unless law and order could be shown to govern the psy- 
chical phenomena they were incomprehensible, and intel- 
ligent therapeusis was impossible. 

As has just been intimated, close observation of B IV 
soon awakened the suspicion that it was she who was the 
original and true Miss Beauchamp, who, for some unex- 
plained reason, had disappeared at some time in the past, 
and had only reappeared for the first time on the night 
~oT June seventh. Many cases of this kind are known. 
For instance, the case of Reverend Ansel Bourne may be 
mentioned, as it was carefull}'^ studied and investigated by 
Prof. William James and Dr. Richard Hodgson. The 
reverend gentleman awoke one day to find himself living 
under the name of Brown in a country town in Penn- 
sylvania. Here he had been living two months, keep- 
ing a small shop which he had opened. On coming to 
himself, he did not know where he was or how he had got 
there. It was proved that two months previously a sud- 
den change of personality had occurred, and that he had 
wandered from his home in Rhode Island to this town in 
Pennsylvania, where he had since been living. His mem- 
ory in his normal state was a complete blank for this period 
of his secondary personality. 

This hypothesis — that B IV, like Mr. Bourne, was the 
real self — would explain why I and others were strangers 
to her, and also why she was not familiar with many facts 
of her life and with her surroundings. Possibly, if the 
circumstances of her disappearance were known, they 
might explain her peculiar delusions on the night of her 
awakening. But at this time there was little to make this 
idea more than a hypothesis. If it were true, then it 
would follow that B I, Miss Beauchamp, was nothing but 
a pathological entity, a somnambulist perhaps, having no 
right or title to existence, and must be made to disappear. 



DURING the following summer B IV came and went, 
changing places with Sally and Miss Beauchamp as 
in a stage comedy. The complications had been bad 
enough when there were only two persons, but now that 
there were three, the situations became wofuUy tangled. 
I saw nothing of any of them during July and August, 
though in frequent correspondence ^ with Miss Beauchamp 
and Sally, but I learned afterwards of their doings. A 
pretty mess they made of it, each playing her own game 
regardless of the others. Poor Miss Beauchamp was in 
despair, and got into a hopeless state of mind not to be 
wondered at. Slie had not only " lost much time " — the 
greater part of the summer, in fact — but had also lost a 
number of valuables, including some rings, a necklace, a 
watch, and several borrowed books. She had written un- 
consciously to Jones letters which put her in false positions, 
to say nothing of the usual flood of letters to herself (from 
Sally, of course). To cap the climax, she learned from one 
of Sally's letters that she had borrowed quite a sum of 
money and had promptly lost it. Miss Beauchamp, of 
course, was in the dark about the way all this had happened, 
and ignorant of the fate of her valuables. Whatever 
meagre information she had came from Sally's letters. In 

1 The nnmeroDS letters received were from B I and B III only, — a fact 
of some significance. B IV never wrote me during the summer: our ac- 
quaintance was too new and formal for correspondence, being limited to a 
couple of interviews not of her seeking. Naturally, therefore, she refrained 
from bringing her affairs to me, nor did she want my interference. 


her anxiety for news she had sought Dr. Hodgson's help, 
under the natural assumption that Sally was the culprit. 
It was again the old story of a bad name, for she did not 
realize that there were now in the family besides herself 
two others, instead of one. 

It was through the aid of Sally and B IV that the snarl 
of events was unravelled and the plot explained. To lose 
the money which had to be repaid and which she could ill 
afford to lose was bad enough, but it was galling to have 
been put into such a false position. All this led to a series 
of adventures which had an amusing side, and which will 
be told presently. It was B IV who had borrowed the 
money, and it was also B IV who had lost a ring which 
Miss Beauchamp treasured, wearing it on a chain around 
her neck. One day, while sitting on the rocks by the sea, 
B IV was absentmindedly fingering the chain; it came 
apart and ring and chain fell into the water, where they 
could not be recovered. The other rings were not lost, as 
Miss Beauchamp supposed, although she (B I) could not 
find them ; this was owing to negative hallucinations. 
They were literally directly under her nose — yet, owing to 
this psychical phenomenon, she could not see or feel them. 
Sally had strung them for safety on a ribbon about her 
neck, where they were later found. The borrowed books 
Sally — this time acting as guardian angel — had sent to 
the Storage Warehouse for safe-keeping, but had not 
thought it necessary to acquaint Miss Beauchamp with the 
fact. But it was B IV who had carried on with Jones the 
correspondence which, as it directly reversed the attitude 
in certain matters which B I had taken before B IV came, 
particularly annoyed the former. 

Then Miss Beauchamp had disappeared for weeks during 
the summer, leaving Sally and B IV to alternate with each 
other and to run the campaign. B IV managed the family 
affairs according to her own ideas, which agreed with 


those of Miss Beauchamp about as well as Katherine 
agreed with Petruchio. Then Sally would just drop a line 
to B I that she miglit know what IV had done, if it hap- 
pened to be particularly galling to I's feelings. 

Finally, Miss Beauchamp conceived the project of going 
to New York to recoup her financial losses. The adven- 
tures which followed from her attempt to carry out this 
plan are amusing. She actually got as far as New Haven, 
as will be presently narrated. The following are the de- 
tails of the observation showing: 

Spontaneous Negative Hallucinations. [Notebook, October^ 
1899.] " Apropos of the rings, some very unusual phenomena, 
of the order of spontaneous negative hallucinations, as well as the 
history of the simultaneous action of two consciousnesses, were 
brought to light to-day. Miss Beauchamp had accused Sally of 
having taken some rings which she cherished. Sally explained 
in her own defence that all the rings were not lost ; that ' She ' 
thought she had lost her rings but hadn't; 'She' had lost 
one old ring which was attached to a chain around her neck. 
'The other two rings are not lost,' said Sally, 'but I can't 
make her see them. I have put them on her finger, but she 
won't see them, Dr. Prince ; and I have taken her hand and 
made her take hold of the rings, but she won't feel them. 
They are round her neck now on a ribbon. I have made her 
take the rings in her fingers while she is here and I am 
" gone," and I have put them on her finger ; but it is no use, she 
won't see them.' 

" B III was examined very closely on this episode, with a view 
to obtaining light on the relationship between I and III. If 
B Ill's statements could be established they would show that: 

" (1) B I had negative hallucinations induced by the strong 
auto-suggestion that the rings were lost. 

" (2) B III as a coexisting subconsciousness had tried 
through a logical process of reasoning to make B I see the rings ; 
and that as a subconsciousness Sally had ' taken her hand ' 
and tried to make her feel the rings. This meant that Sally 
had thought and acted like a person who was in existence con- 


temporaneously with B I. There would have been a coexisting 
motive, a coexisting desire, a coexisting process of reasoning, 
and a co-action. This meant two coexisting real personalities, 
that is, a primary and a subconsciousness." 

Introspective evidence of this kind of course cannot be 
confirmed experimentally, but the negative hallucinations 
could be demonstrated. 

" B I was now awakened with Sally's consent, and was in- 
formed about the rings as follows : ' You think you have lost 
your rings.' She assented. ' Well, you have n't. I know 
where two of them are. The third, the one that was on the 
chain, is lost, but I can put my hand on the others whenever I 

" ' Can I find them?' she inquired. 

" In reply I bade her unloosen her collar. About her neck 
was tied a ribbon, and on the ribbon were the two rings, as 
Sally had said. I made every effort to have Miss Beauchamp 
see the rings and ribbon, to hear the click when they were struck 
together, and to feel them with her fingers, but without result. 
She simply could not see, hear, or feel them, and at first thought 
me joking. Though it was sought by suggestion to dispel the 
hallucination, the only effect of persisting was to make her think 
she was being guyed. After a while she assented to the sug- 
gestion, but it was evident that she did so to agree with me. 
Then, in response to my insistence, ' Well, you say I see them, 
and I am willing to say I do, if you wish it, but I don't see 
them.' I pulled the ribbon hard enough to jerk her head and to 
make her lose her balance. At this she remonstrated, ' Don't 
jerk my head.' 

" ' How can I jerk your head if I have nothing in my hand 
[the ribbon], as you insist? In that case there can be no 

" ' I see your hand move so, and I feel my head go so ; ' and 
from this she inferred some kind of hypnotic connection, with- 
out understanding its nature." 

Spontaneous phenomena of this sort, of the intensity 
manifested in this observation and which cannot be dis- 


pelled by external suggestion or by the subject's voluntary 
attention, are, I believe, unique. Miss Beauchamp stood 
in the middle of the room, the rings suspended from her 
neck, while I pulled the ribbon and dangled the rings be- 
fore her eyes in the vain effort to make her see them. Un- 
der the dominant idea that they were lost, heightened by 
the emotional effect — worry and intense regret — that this 
idea had caused, she could not see what was under her nose. 
When one remembers that it was one of her own selves 
who, in distrust of the primary self's absentmindedness, had 
attached the rings to the ribbon for safe-keeping, the situa- 
tion seems curious, to say the least. The study of negative 
hallucinations of this sort is interesting from the light that 
it throws on some of the ordinary phenomena of absent- 
mindedness, such for example as the time-honored instances 
of people, generally professors, who cannot find their eye- 
glasses which lie on the table under their eyes. 

The systematized anesthesia for the rings differed in no 
way from that previously noted in the experuuent with the 
metal rod (p. 67), excepting that the former was sponta- 
neous, and in this respect was exceptional, considering the 
number of senses involved and the intensity and persistence 
of the (negative) hallucinations. The blindness was syste- 
matized in that it embraced only a special system or group 
of visual images, namely, the rings and ribbon about her 
neck. The same is true of the deafness for tlie sound of 
the rings clicking against one another, and of the tactile 
anesthesia when the rings were touched. The subject was 
anesthetic for any sensory impression associated with tlie 
rings. For all else there was no impairment of sight, hear- 
ing, or touch. In the experimental instance of the rod, the 
cause of the anesthesia was a suggestion from without. 
In the spontaneous case of the rings it was a suggestion 
from within, — an auto-suggestion. The intense belief 
that the rings were lost, and the consequent emotion, 


induced the anesthesia in the personal consciousness of B I. 
That the images were formed nevertheless, although they 
remained isolated, is shown by the fact that not only Sally 
but B II remembered having seen the rings. " / did not 
see the rings at the time" ^ said B II, " but /remember them 
nowy The images as memories became united in hypnosis 
to this self. 

This raises the question which was asked (p. 73), but 
passed over when discussing systematized anesthesia in a 
previous chapter (V). Speaking not of tliis particular 
case, but of systematized anesthesia in general, — What 
becomes of the isolated images ? Do they remain isolated 
by themselves, or are they united to some other conscious- 
ness sufficiently complex to form a second personality 
capable of personal perceptions? By this I mean a con- 
sciousness that can say, " / see, / hear, / feel." From here 
on the problem becomes complicated and can only be 
touched upon in this place. The answer must vary with 
individual cases, depending upon the degree of dissociation 
of consciousness present. 

(1) In mildly dissociated cases the images probably con- 
stitute the whole of the secondary consciousness, and 
simply are isolated states without sufficient complexity to 
be described as a personality or personal perception, or to 
justify the use of the pronoun I. Such a condition may be 
observed in ordinary absentmindedness. When an object 
lying under the nose of an abstracted individual is not 
seen, we call it absentmindedness, which really correctly 
designates the condition. The mind is absent or dissoci- 
ated. " Dissociated-miudedness " would be a more precise 
term. When a pereon in such a condition momentarily 
fails to see his spectacles which lie on the table before 
him, he has a negative hallucination. But the spectacles 
are seen subconsciously, which, be it always remembered, 

1 That i8, at any of the times when R I did not see them. 


means dissociated images. This may be easily proved ex- 
perimentally. I have made numerous experiments on this 
point, and have found that sounds in the street, voices, 
visual images of passers-by, or surrounding objects which 
are not perceived by the primary personality, nevertheless 
give rise to dissociated sensory images, and thereby to a 
limited doubling of consciousness. When absentmindedly 
we do not hear what is said, see what is going on, or feel 
the tickling of a fly on the skin, the apparently unheard 
word, the unseen object, and the unfelt touch, are really 
heai-d, seen, and felt. It is only necessary to hypnotize the 
subject to demonstrate the fact. When the subject is 
hypnotized, the hypnotic self remembers and is able to 
describe these sensory experiences. But from my obser- 
vations I believe that these sensory images — the spec- 
tacles in the supposititious case — remain isolated, and that 
there is no self — subconscious self — to which they be- 
come attached to form a personality and allow personal 

While the fundamental psycho-physiological principle of 
absentmindedness is dissociation, as is easily proved, never- 
theless Dr. Janet is in error, in my judgment, in identifying 
hysterical anesthesia with the normal state of distraction. 
Both are forms of dissociation, but all forms of dissocia- 
tion are not distraction. Slee)), trance, epileptoid states^ 
h ypnosis, etc., are forms of dissociation, but they are not 
absentmindedness. The demonstration of dissociation and 
doubling of consciousness in absentmindedness is of great 
psychological importance, for it means that dissociation is 
a normal process, and that there must exist some psycho- 
physiological mechanism for bringing it about. Here, too, 
it may be pointed out that concentration of attention may - 
be regarded as a form of volitional absentmindedness and 
probably makes use of the same apparatus. Abnormal dis- 
sociation may be only a perversion of this same apparatus. 



(2) In more extensively dissociated cases, such as the 
profounder forms of hysteria, there may be a secondary 
consciousness of such complexity as to constitute a verita- 
ble personality. With this secondary consciousness the 
sensory images of anesthesia (dissociated from the primary 
personality) may be united, and such a subconsciousness 
could veritably say, "/see," "/hear." Dr. Barrow's case 
of Miss Anna Winsor (" Old Stump ") was of this type. 
"While the patient was engaged in conversation, the sub- 
consciousness, making use of the right (paralyzed) hand, 
called " Old Stump," wrote poetry, drew pictures, etc. 
During an attack of delirium it wrote a prescription. 

In the case of Miss Beauchamp and the negative hallu- 
cinations of the rings, the conditions are very complex. A 
secondary consciousness of considerable extent (Sally) 
already existed. The dissociated sensory images of the 
rings formed a part of this consciousness, which, if her 
statement be accepted, could say, " / saw them." There 
was subconscious personal perception. This is in accord 
with numerous observations made in this case. In contrast 
with Sally's personal perception, B II could only say: "2 
did not see the rings, at the time, but / remember them 
now." The images apparently belonged to more than one 
subconscious group. 

Sometimes Miss Beauchamp's negative hallucinations 
were caused, not by the intensity of her own ideas, but by 
the mischievousness of Sally, who deliberately and wilfully 
would act by "willing" on Miss Beauchamp's conscious- 
ness, and prevent her seeing what was before her. In- 
stances of this kind also occurred about this time, as will 
presently appear. 

To return to the adventures of the trio : The part which 
B IV played in demoralizing Miss Beauchamp's life be- 
comes intelligible if it is kept in mind that she knew noth- 
ing of Miss Beauchamp's thoughts or feelings; nothipg 


about her life during late years ; nothing of her ties or 
duties assumed ; and that necessarily she knew nothing of 
her wishes, intentions, or relations with people and events. 
For her there was no other ego but herself. Naturally 
therefore she was, from her own point of view, a free lance 
to do as she pleased. And in the doing she went back 
in her mind to the life of six years before, which she 
imagined herself to be still living. Yet it must be con- 
fessed that later, when she did learn something of her 
other self, she refused to show any consideration for any 
one's wishes but her own. She was such a different char- 
acter, in tastes, points of view, opinions, and modes of 
thought, that whatever she did would necessarily be re- 
pugnant to Miss Beauchamp. She had no affihations, 
apparently cared for nobody, and had no sense of responsi- 
bility to any one. Add to this an imtable temper, which 
made her angry whenever restrained or placed under cir- 
cumstances which she did not enjoy, and we have the key 
to her conduct. 

Sally meanwhile was enjoying it all, and did not miss 
any opportunity to stick pins into both the others. She 
wrote them letters, taking pains to let poor Miss Beau- 
champ, especially, know what terrible things she had been 
doing, calling her all sorts of names, and magnifying the 
enormity of her sins. Miss Beauchamp took it all au pied 
de la lettre, imagined much more, and was very unhappy. 
A feeling of terror was created in her mind, by not know- 
ing what she might have done when she was " gone," and 
by imagining from Sally's lago-like letters all sorts of 
possibilities. The times when she disappeared increased 
in lengtli and frequency, until, finally, she was " gone " 
for a month, — from the end of July to the last week in 

The following letter of July 27 hints at her state of 
mind : 


" I am glad to hear from you, but I can't imagine what the 

note is to which you refer, for I have n't written J ^ this 

summer, and yet there is no one else whom you would be at all 
likely to confuse with him. I am sorry. Perhaps it is, as you 
say, something written by my other self, or one of my other 
selves, for, if ' Sally ' is to be believed, there are several. About 
seeing you — you ai'e awfully good, but I cannot come just yet, 
much as I need and would like to. I am too nervous and would 
only annoy you. But I do wish you would tell me if there is 
any one to whom I could appeal in case of emergency while you 
are away — any one who would not think me wholly mad, or 
who would in the least understand what to do. I am afraid 
to be so entirely alone. As for my plans, they are in a most 

chaotic state, I am sorry to say. I hoped to remain in all 

summer, but it was impossible, and so I am back on St. 

for the present, where it is at least quiet, as there is no one 
in the house except the caretaker. I don't know how long 
I shall be here. Do you know, Dr. Prince, I have forgotten 
everything — absolutely everything that I learned with such 
difficulty ^ during this last year. Will it come back to me again, 
do you think? Please tell me. And if it does n't, what shall I 
do? Don't tell Mrs. X., — don't tell any one yet. Let me get 
a little used to it. . . . Hoping I have not taxed your patience 
too severely, I remain, believe me," 

It will be noticed that Sally has taken pains to tell her 
that there is more than one devil inside her, but as yet she 
does not thoroughly realize it. The acquisitions she has 
lost are the ability to write shorthand, and her knowledge 
of French ^ and other foreign languages. 

The following letter was received from Sally, August 2, 
in reply to one of mine reproaching her for breaking the 
promises which she had given not to tease Miss Beau- 

1 A letter written by IV to J , and either by mistake or through Sally, 

put in the wrong envelope and mailed to me. 

2 Referring to the constant alternation of personalities, and Sally's destruc- 
tion of the notes of tlie lectures, etc. This amnesia was only another example 
of dissociation and was temporary. 

* The languages had been learned in college, but shorthand the preceding 


champ. What she says is literally true ; she could not 
keep promises of this kind, and always said so. 

" I wonder if you half realize how very unfair you are to me. 
It is n't true that I tell lies and break all my promises and have 
no sense of honor. You know it is n't true. I have never lied to 
you except concerning one thing, and that was absolutely neces- 
sary — absolutely, really — and I think even you would forgive 
me if you knew all about it. Nor have I tried to deceive you ever, 
save half in fun when I wanted you to think me Miss Beau- 
champ — but you always knew at once that I was n't. As for 
breaking promises, have I ever broken one that was given vol- 
untarily? When you wring them from me by sheer force of 
arms, and I tell you, even as I give them, I cannot keep them, 
it seems to me that is very different. Won't you make the 
smallest allowance for me, Dr. Prince ? I cannot bear to have 
you speak so. 

" She has not waked up at all since Monday. I think she 
is really dead. 

"P. S. Please don't be cross — you know you said I might 
write if I chose, and this is n't a very long letter." ^ 

There is a point to which it may be worth while to call 
attention here. In her letter of July 27 (page 196) Miss 
Beauchamp asked if there was not some one to whom she 
could go for help. Dr. Richard Hodgson had kindly 
offered to stand in loco parentis^ in my absence, and I di- 
rected her to him. On August 22 she writes again to the 

1 The difference in style of this letter from that of her usual letters is 
noticeable. Now and then, under the dominant force of an idea or feeling 
such as Miss Beauchamp might have had, the expression of her thoughts 
took on a form which might have been used by the primary personality. It 
was the same with the facial expression. But I never knew her to exhibit 
the sadness and weariness of B I. In the last part of this letter Sally 
relapses to lier old style. 

2 To Dr. Hodgson I desire to express my gratitude for the valuable as- 
sistance whioh he rendered in the practical supervision of the case during tlie 
earlier period of this study, when it was desirable to keep Miss Beauchamj) 
under daily observation. Dr. Hodgson has thus had an opportunity to be- 
come personally acquainted with the different personalities and to continuously 
observe them during long periods of time. 


same effect, though on August 19, and on several occa- 
sions previously she had gone to Dr. Hodgson, but it was 
in the chai-acter of Sally. Miss Beauchamp did not know 
this, for she had disappeared for the whole or nearly the 
whole of the preceding four weeks. The following is the 
letter from B I written August 22 : 

" I am awfully sorry, believe me, to trouble you again, but I 
think you wrote about some one to whom I could go in case of 
emergency. I need that some one now — very, very much — 
but unfortunately I have forgotten both the name and address 
you gave me. Can jou send it again ? I have lost weeks, — 
whole weeks this time. What does it avail struggling against 
it? I am so tired, so very tired ! " 

In September the family again came under observation. 
It had just had an adventure, the one already referred 
to, which was the outcome of Miss Beauchamp's project 
of going to New York. This is worth narrating, as it 
shows how the different members of the family played 
their parts and lived together, as well as the individuality 
of the different personalities. The family altogether was 
much like a barometer house with three inmates — when 
one was out, the others were inside. On September 3 
Miss Beauchamp wrote as follows : 

" I shall be awfully glad to see you any time you wish during 

the next few days. You will forgive me? I have been doing 

the most dreadful things — things I cannot bear to think of. 

. . . Is it possible or credible that there should be another — 

I hardly know what to call it — another thing like ' Sally ' ? 

" P. S. Address Street." ^ 

On September 5 the following note arrived from Sally, 
who evidently was frightened at the effect which all these 
escapades were having on Miss Beauchamp : 

1 This letter gave a different address from the usual oue, and indicated 
that her residence liad been changed. , 


" Won't you please write and say that she may come to- 
day? I want you to — so very much. I'm afraid she is go- 
ing to be really ill, and I don't know what to do, and there 's no 
one here, and it's perfectly dreadful altogether. I want you to 
come to Boston. Please, please do. Dr. Prince. I won't talk 
to you at all, and I 'm awfully sorry to have annoyed you with 
that letter. Truly I am." 

I will let my notebook tell the story : 

September ftth : ^ " To-day Miss Beauchamp called by ap- 
pointment. She was in much distress, discouraged, and ex- 
pressed a desire to end the whole thing afld give up the fight. 
She said that she was mentally worse, having lost whole weeks 
and in fact the greater part of the summer ; that she had done 
awful things, which she ' could n't,' that is, ' would n't ' tell me, 
and evidently has been getting into terrible messes, putting her- 
self into false positions, etc., etc. She appeared distressed by 
all that had happened, exhibited some aboulia of speech and 
slight stammering, and expressed a desire to commit suicide, 
saying that nothing else was left for her. Moderately nervous 
in movement. While I was talking to her she changed to Sally, 
who laughed as usual over the tribulations of her other self, but 
appeared more considerate and sympathetic for B I than she 
had ever been before. Sally disclaimed being responsible for 
all that had happened, declaring that she had done very little, 
and that what had taken place was not her fault. When ques- 
tioned closely as to who was responsible, she was clearly puz- 
zled. It was the 'Idiot' who was the cause of the trouble ; 
that was clear in her mind, and exculpated herself. But who 
was the ' Idiot '? She could give no explanation of this point, 
nor of the relationship between the ' Idiot ' and B I. It was 
plain, too, that the 'Idiot' eould not be identified with B I. 
Nevertheless, Sally insisted, ' There are not three of us, only 
two ' ; but how it was that B I became the ' Idiot,' or who the 
'Idiot' was, etc., she could not understand. As Sally described 

1 It was at this and subsequent interviews that the first thorough study of 
B IV as a personality was made. Up to this time, since the seventh of 
June, she had been observed only twice. 


the course of events, her attitude was that of one who had 
watched with relish B I changing to B IV and back again, 
and the messes in which they became involved, much as one 
watches a play upon the stage. 

"The following is Sally's account of the New Haven ad- 
venture. Both B I and B IV corroborated their respective 
parts in the affair, so that this narrative is supported by the 
testimony of the whole family. There is in addition some 
documentary evidence in the form of a telegram sent to me 
from New Haven, and a pawnbroker's ticket which I redeemed. 
Miss Beauchamp, being unable to discover the whereabouts of 
her missing property, decided that she would go to New York to 
earn some money for the purpose of paying back that which 
had been borrowed. Thereupon B IV wrote a letter to Jones, 
telling him of B I's intention. At this point in the narrative, 
Sally paused meditatively, and remarked that the * Idiot ' seemed 
to know some things and not to know others. How she knew 
that Miss Beauchamp was going to New York Sally could not 
understand, but ' anyhow she did.' ^ The reply from Jones was 
received, not by B IV, but by Miss Beauchamp, who was dis- 
tressed that Jones had been informed. Jones wrote that it was 
not safe for her to go alone to New York, and that * Anna ' 
must go with her as chaperone. Now this was just what Miss 
Beauchamp did not want. So, to shorten the storj', after much 
difficulty she managed to give ' Anna ' (who had joined her in 
Boston) the slip, and took a different train from the one intended. 
For some reason [which my notes fail to give] she took tickets 
to New Haven, instead of to New York. On arrival at New 
Haven, she went to the Young Women's Christian Associa- 
tion, and applied to the matron for work, saying she knew 
only writing, reading, and that sort of thing. The matron 

1 Sally pondered upon this for some little time. It was probably an example 
of what was occasionally observed, namely, sort of memory-flashes from B I's 
mind into that of B IV. They were generally merely isolated facts which B 
IV got hold of. Phenomena of thi.s kind are well known p.sychologically, and 
are based on established laws. These scrappy memories used to puzzle Sally. 
Later, B IV devised a method of awakening memories of B I's life. The 
whole was an interesting .stndy, although made difficult by the fact that at 
first B IV wonld give no assistance. The phenomena will be later dis- 
cussed (Chapter XV). 


asked if she could wait on table. Miss Beauchamp thought 
she could, although she had never done it. So a place was 

obtained for her at a hotel on Street, kept by a Mrs. S. 

Her stay here lasted about two days, and was varied by the 
' Idiot,' Sally, and Miss Beauchamp coming and going, each 
bobbing in and bobbing out in the most confusing manner. 
Sally described the whole adventure and the different scenes in 
detail with a great deal of gusto and volubility, speaking so 
rapidly that it was difficult to follow her, and seeming to enjoy 
the complications that ensued, and the different things that 
befell the different personalities by the unexpected events thrust 
upon each. All went well until the ' Idiot ' suddenly appeared 
and found herself waiting upon table, a position which she 
looked upon with the utmost disgust. Nevertheless, angry and 
disgusted as she was, she went on doing the work for a time. 
Then Miss Beauchamp and Sally would each come in turn. ' I 
did n't like to work either,' said Sally, in a tone of superior 
virtue, ' but I did it. B I did n't like it, but did it because 
she thought she could earn money. The "Idiot" lost her 
temper,' Sally continued, ' and stamped her foot at the ele ator 
boy. She has a nasty temper.' " 

To digress for a moment : the difference in the mental 
attitudes of the different personalities towards the position 
in which they were placed is psychologically interesting. 
The attitude of B I was that of penance, of meekness, and 
of resignation to a duty to be done and for which all per- 
sonal feeling was to be sacrified. Her self-respect and 
honor compelled her to do it. That of B IV was rebel- 
liousness, unwillingness to acquiesce in the conditions 
which she found, or to accept what was distasteful. She 
awoke to find herself in a disagreeable situation, without 
knowing the why or the wherefore, a situation not of her 
choosing. She saw no good reason for it, and rebelled. 
Sally alone found amusement and variety. To her it was 
at least adventure, which she loved, and she was able to 
enjoy the discomfiture of the others. 


" Finally the * Idiot ' would n't stand it any longer, and went 
to Mrs. S., telling her she did not like the work and was going 
away. Mrs. S., who liked Miss Beauchamp very much, said she 
was very sorry, and tried to persuade her to stay — but not being 
able to do so, told her if she would wait till Mr. S. returned, he 
would pay her. But the ' Idiot ' would n't ; she said she did n't 
want the money anyway, and left then and there. Regardless 
of her finances, she ordered the elevator boy to send for a car- 
riage; she wanted one, and at once. No carriage appearing 
at the end of two or three minutes, she turned upon him in a 
rage, and stamping her foot, told him she wanted a carriage ' at 
once — at once.' At the station, after paying for the carriage, 
she found herself with only a little silver, less than a dollar, in 
her pocket, not enough to pay her fare. Then followed a period 
of deep thought and a walk through the city, believing that if 
she could think hard enough [as she afterwards told me] she 
would find a way out of her dilemma. The solution came. She 
pawned her watch for four dollars, and returned to Boston. 
When Miss Beauchamp (B I) later found her watch gone, she 
was much distressed, because it belonged to Miss Z. Now, in 
addition to the loss of her money, she had lost another person's 
watch. Her trials had indeed multiplied. Thanks to Sally, 
the watch was located in the pawnbroker's shop, and later I re- 
deemed it. It is only fair to the ' Idiot ' to say that she had 
a right to keep the watch if she so chose, having, unknown to 
Miss Beauchamp, exchanged her own for it, and further she 
had the pawnbroker's card carefully preserved. After the re- 
turn of the family to Boston, Miss Beauchamp (B I) in her 
turn waked up to find herself in a strange lodging house on 

Street, which Sally claimed the honor of selecting in the 

following simple way : After arriving, Sally walked along the 
street, saw a placard in the window of a house, went in and 
engaged the room. Here they remained for some time, for 
Sally, to her credit be it said, showed considerable judgment 
in her selection. 

" Notwithstanding Sally's enjoyment of the details and com- 
plications of this adventure, she was evidently frightened at 
Miss Beauchamp's condition, as is shown by the letter which 
has just been given. Miss Beauchamp, harrowed and worried 


by it all, was ready to give up the fight, and had tried to com- 
mit suicide. One night, soon after returning to Boston, she 
had closed tight the windows of her room, turned on the gas 
and got into bed, but Sally — again a guardian angel — imme- 
diately got up, turned off the gas, opened the windows, and 
thus saved her life. The attempt at suicide evidently impressed 
Sally, who pondered upon it awhile and then asked me whether, 
if Miss Beauchamp killed herself, she, Sally, would be dead 
too. On learning that this would be the case, she shuddered, 
and said, ' I should n't like that.' " 

It was plain that Sally had conceived a dislike for the 
" Idiot " just as she had for Miss Beauchamp, but her 
dislike was more of the nature of contempt than hatred. 
She described the " Idiot " as irritable, bad-tempered, and 
given to telling lies, — the last a rather uncharitable in- 
terpretation on Sally's part of B IV's unwillingness to 
confess ignorance of the past, and her pretence of knowl- 
edge. These were great sins in Sally's eyes. Sally was of 
the opinion that B I and B IV were in some obscure way 
the same person, and later used to speak of B IV as B I 
" rattled." 

At this same interview an opportunity was offered to 
observe B IV and to study the crystallization of her per- 
sonality after the summer's experience. These observations 
of her personality have already been incorporated in the 
text (Chapters XI and XII). It was to be expected that, 
by this time, an adjustment of her mental processes to her 
environment would have taken place, and that habits of 
thought would have been established. 

" This is the way B IV made her appearance upon the scene : 
[After Sally had told her story B I was awakened again.] 
While talking with Miss Beauchamp, who had been relating her 
woes, the expression of her face changed ; the anxious, de- 
pressed look was gone ; her voice became deeper, and at times 
low and hard in contrast with the soft, high-pitched tone of 


Miss Beauchamp. The change was puzzling. I wondered 
whether it was B I, calm and peaceful, or Sally, masquerading 
asB I. 

" ' Well,' I said, ' Who are you9' 

" ♦ I 'm Miss Beauchamp.' 

" ' No, you are not.' 

" ' I think I may be allowed to know my own name.' 

" Her tone was reserved, as if resenting an impertinence, and 
very different from that of either B I or B III. 

" She rose to go, and walked toward the door. Taking her 
by the wrist, I attempted to lead her back to her seat. This 
she resented as a familiarity, which neither B I nor B III 
would have done. Apparently it was neither of these personali- 
ties, but B IV, whom I had not seen since June. I took her in 
hand at once for a rigid examination that should test her mem- 
ory and character. In appearance she was calm, quiet, dignified, 
and natural. Testing cutaneous sensation, it was found to be 
normal, thereby distinguishing her from Sally. Mentally she 
appeared a normal person, but was more formal and distant 
with me than were B I and B III, more like one not on terms 
of intimacy with her interlocutor. She did not know the amount 
of money in her hand, or how she became possessed of it; how 
she happened to come to my house, ^ or how she got there ; but 
she prevaricated, dodged, and tried to cover her ignorance by 
evasive replies. By pushing home the questions, it was easy 
to convict her of ignorance. She admitted the New Haven es- 
capade, and gave her side of the story, though surprised at my 
knowledge of the affair. Though she tried to preserNc a reti- 
cence about her affairs, my fuller knowledge of them gave me 
such an advantage, that in questioning her, she furnished con- 
siderable information. She said that she felt at times ' as if 
possessed ' (Sally thought this a mere figure of speech), and that 
often she was prevented from doing things she wished to do. 
She wrote letters and tore them up again, or * some one did.' " 

I have often been asked concerning the frequency with 
which the characters would change their parts in this 
drama, and the length of time each would remain on the 

* B I had come by appointment. 


stage. Any one of the three might remain any length of 
time, from a few minutes to several days, though as a rule 
many changes were made in a day. In the course of an 
interview of an hour, the personalities would perhaps change 
several times, though often this was brought about inten- 
tionally for purposes of study. During the interview just 
described, lasting probably two hours, the following was 
the oi'der of appearance of each character : 

B I ; on entrance. 

B III; spontaneous. 

B I ; brought intentionally by suggestion. 

B IV; spontaneous. 

B III; spontaneous, in place of IV. 

B I ; intentional. ^ 

The following letter from B I is more than amusing. It 
is one of Sally's little jokes, but it has a psychological in- 
terest in showing the power of an inner consciousness to 
act upon the primary consciousness ; that is to say, it ex- 
hibits not only the synchronous action of two conscious- 
nesses and two wills^ but the action of one upon the other. 
The letter may be recognized at once by its style of expres- 
sion and thought as B I's, but Sally's fine hand is seen in 
the transposition of the letters in the individual words so 
as to make what looks like a sort of cipher language. B I 
wrote the letter, as was later learned, but Sally, while B 1 
was writing it, transposed the letters hi B I^s mind (Sally 
of course, being " inside "), so that B I wrote the words 
as thus dictated. It will be observed that the letters of 
each individual word are correct ; they are only misplaced. 
This required considerable thought and will on Sally's part 
and gives a clue to the extent of the field of her conscious- 
ness when she is " inside." ^ 

^ Appendix B. 

"^ Sally described how she did this. Her statement is of value in throwing 
light on the way we think and use language. Since discovering her power, 
she has frequently mixed up Miss I}eau(lianij)'s writing. 


[Letter of October 17, 1899, from B I ; lettei-s of each 
word transposed by Sally acting as a subconsciousness.] 

" I spoek revy hastyli and unavdisdely tadoy in prosiming to 
sden yuo lal ^ Sally's nesto. I catnon. I cloud ton sden meth 
ot nay eno. And sa orf ym thero presimo atoub mooing ot 
rouy ofceif if I vahe anthero seegi vviht my deah ti si learly 
ipmossible orf me ot peek taht oto. phlsycialy ipraossible. You 
wonk I nact tindissbguisnight a tofo waay and nact klaw arcosa 
the moor vase with the treagest tidyficulf I shodlu ton dear skir 
gniog ton of roods. I ma rorsy fauwUy, rorsy you shodlu veah 
enve blotrued tabou it sthi meit. I idd ton mared of Mrs. 

lephtenoing you orn idd I wonk yangthin tabou it niltu 


[Translation.] "I spoke very hastily and unadvisedly to 
day in promising to send you all Sally's notes. I cannot. I 
could not send them to any one. And as for my other promise 
about coming to your office, if I have another siege with my 
head it is really impossible for me to keep that too — physi- 
cally impossible. You know I can't distinguish things a foot 
away, and can't walk across the room save with the greatest 
difficulty. I should not dare risk going out of doors. I am 
sorry, awfully sorry, you should have been troubled about it 

this time. I did not dream of Mrs. telephoning you, nor 

did I know anything about it until afterward." 

Sally had been threatened with a sanatorium as a punish- 
ment for her behavior, and had been put on probation. 
She promised reform and agreed to wake up Miss Beau- 
champ whenever the latter relapsed into herself or B IV. 
Hence the following letter in fear of being suspected : 

"I am in for another wigging, I suppose, for She 's 
vanished again and is n't to be gotten hold of, though I 've 
tried three hurdy-gurdies and an organ-man and an ancient 
piano — and virtue is n't its own reward, for in spite of all this 
I feel as guilty and as unhappy as possible to-night. But I am 

1 Note the italics, indicating that B I thought she had written all.^ 


sending you the card you wanted and my new address, 

Street.^ I hope you won't be very cross with me. I really 
have n't done anything, and have written only three letters 

— this to-night to you, one yesterday to Mrs. , and one 

to-day to Miss . If I were to learn French, and sleep a 

great deal . . . would you let me stay? I don't see why you 
all disapprove of me, — why you all think me just a psycho- 
logical phenomenon. I can't understand." 

The idea of learning French had come to Sally as an 
inspiration. In spite of her hatred for study she set to 
work to learn the language. If she only knew French 
perhaps we should think her quite as much of a person as 
B I or B IV, and perhaps we would let her stay. So 
Sally got a French book and a dictionary and plodded 
away on her road to culture. But her career as a student 
soon came to an untimely end. She appeared one day, 
stuttering badly and in bad temper, but very funny. 

" Everything is just upside down," she complained. 
" The Idiot has been laughing at my French, and I 
c-c-can't t-t-talk to-day, and I c-c-can't feel things." ^ 

She pouts and flounces about the room in a most amus- 
ing way. I tell her she is now catching it in her turn, 
but encourage her to go on with her story, which is a long 
one. The Idiot, it appeared, had picked up some notes 
written by Sally and had laughed at the French. Sally 
became angry, and the Idiot paid for her indiscretion. 
That night she (the Idiot) could not leave the house, but, 
a lonesome prisoner, she passed a weary evening in a chair, 
with her feet perched high up on the back of another. 
" She looked just like an actress," said Sally, " and was so 
angry because she could n't go out. She could n't get her 
feet down." 

1 The house selected by Sally after returning from New Haven. 

2 It will be remembered that Sally could recover sensibility by auto- 


[From B I, September 24.] "You are very good, but 
there is little I can tell you, for I have lost most of the time 
since the evening of the twelfth [12 days], only coming to my- 
self for a few hours on Friday last, and again this afternoon. I 
am quite well physically, save that I have a bad headache, and 
am awfully tired and sleepy — my usual condition after one of 
these attacks, you know. As for my sins, I can't confess yet, 
for I am still in ignorance concerning them. I really do not 
know what I have been doing this time. It will ' out ' soon 
enough. There is a perfectly tantalizing heap of thirteen 
envelopes on my table (received since I was last here), from 
which all the letters have been taken, and I suppose that means 
trouble and confusion sooner or later, but I am almost too tired 
to care. I thank you again — a thousand times — for your 
patience ! It must be awfully hard for you. I do realize it, 
and that I ought to fight this thing out alone, and yet it seems 
so impossible to do it. I have tried, believe me." 

To this there was appended the following postscript, 
"A nasty old letter — Amen," by Sally, of course. 

Here are three letters written by Sally to Miss Beau- 
champ, and one from the latter enclosing them : 

[Sally to B I.] "I shall never forgive you last night's 
madness — never, never, never ! But it has settled one thing 
at least, and that is my having anything more to do with you. 
I disown you absolutely, forever, and entirely, and you may go 
to the devil in your own sweet way, for all me. I give you a 
week to get there — oh, no, less than that, if your friend the 
Idiot assists, much less. You shall call for me then^ but I will 
not hear you. I will not answer. 

" P. S. I shall not hinder you in anything, neither shall I 
help you. Go your way." 

[Sally to B I.] " Do you know what I shall do if you don't 
write me about the three farthings man immediately, as I asked 
you to? I shall put a little, creepy, gray mouse with cold 
feet, and a long, long, twisty tail down your back, and fasten 


him in so he will bite you. Consider this, little sister mine, and 
hump yourself. You don't half appreciate me — not half." 

[Sally to B I.] " You do like 433} You think it's per- 
fectly delightful here, and you are going to stay all winter. 
Please commit this text to memory, ragazza, for you 've slipped 
up twice within twenty-four hours, and my patience is fast 
vanishing. Don't make me write about it again. I 'm too 

[Letter of October 11 to me from Miss Beauchamp, enclos- 
ing the above three notes from Sally :] " This note [No. 1] has 
made me so uneasy. But it is absurd, is n't it, for how can one 
disown oneself, how hate oneself, or how exult in one's own 
destruction, one's own undoing? It is madness to think of. 
Keep me from it, I pray you ! I have not lost more than an 
hour or two since I left you yesterday, and have slept be- 
tween six and seven hours. Were it not for my uneasiness 
concerning ' Sally ' and the ' Idiot ' I should feel quite well." 

^ The number of the house which Sally had selected after the return from 
New Haven. Miss Beauchamp did not like the house. 




IT will be easily undei-stood from what has been said in 
the last chapter that B IV, by her coming and going, 
constantly found herself in awkward situations. She 
would suddenly appear out of the nowhere to discover 
herself in familiar conversation with an apparent stranger, 
who would refer to events of which she knew nothing; or 
she would receive letters in reference to engagements or 
past occurrences of which she was in entire ignorance. 
Many embariussing predicaments were the consequence. 
It required all her mental ingenuity to keep posted on the 
doings of B I ; or rather, to state the fact from her point 
of view (for she knew nothing of B I as a personality), on 
that part of her life when she herself was absent. As we 
shall later see, she had several methods of getting this 
information ; one was by visions. She discovered that by 
*'*' fixing her mind,^' as she called it, she could create a 
vision of almost any event in which she had taken part, 
either as herself or in those blank periods of her life when 
she was B I. These visions were similar in character to 
the crystal visions which used to be obtained with Miss 
Beauchamp for purposes of experiment. Unlike Sally, 
therefore, both personalities were good subjects for these 
phenomena. The process of " fixing her mind " consisted 
in thinking intently, to the extent of absentmindedness, 
on any subject upon which she wished information, and if 
it was a scene in which one or other member of the family 
had played a part, the whole would rise before her like a 


I sometimes took advantage of this, as 1 did with B I, 
to learn additional facts about her past life. I never knew 
a vision to be in error in the slightest detail, about facts 
of which I myself had accurate records or personal knowl- 
edge; yet a vision, when reproducing a past experience, 
must represent the scene as the subject saw it, not neces- 
sarily as it was. The reliability of the evidence must 
therefore depend on the accuracy of the subject's observa- 
tions. When these are perverted by emotion, the vision 
must exhibit a corresponding perversion. 

At this time, September, 1899, with a particular pur- 
pose in view, I sought to obtain a vision of the episode of 
the seventh of June last, when B IV made her first appear- 
ance. Without other suggestions of any kind, I directed 
B IV to " fix her mind " upon the event, and describe 
what she saw. She sat before me, her mind "fixed on 
vacancy." As she watched the scenes of the vision pass- 
ing before her, the changing expression of her face re- 
flected all the passing emotions which at the time of the 
actual events she had experienced. This is always the 
case with her as well as with B I in seeing visions. The 
feelings originally actually felt are re-excited. Sometimes 
she is so overcome that she breaks away from the sight. 
In interpreting this vision, it must be kept in mind that 
B IV remembers only that part of the episode in which she 
herself took part. She has no recollection of the scenes 
when B I and Sally were present. Hence her surprise 
at those portions of the vision. This was the vision 
(scene, her room: B I is present); 

[Surprised and objecting.]^ " I am not like that! I am not 
like that ! [Shocked at the picture she sees of her other miser- 

^ In brackets are enclosed such comments as will render the meaning 
clearer. The words describing the vision are those of B IV, so far as I 
could write them down, — a difficult undertaking. Some of the statements 
were in reply to my questions. 


able self, B I, she breaks ofif ; then looks again.] I see myself 
walking up and down. [This was B I, agitated and nervous, 
and before my entrance.] You are not there. ^ Oh, my head ! 
[Feels her headache as B I.] Oh, yes, I see you. It is n't the 
window; it is the door.^ You are coming through the door. 
You take hold of my arm — so [illustrating]. You sit down. 
No, I can't hear what you say. Oh, Dr. Prince [annoyed and 
incredulous], I am not like that! [Referring to the great ner- 
vousness of B I.] You sit down, and I get up and walk back 
and forth. I am very nervous. I seem to be talking very fast. 
No, I can't hear what I say.^ I am very much upset. It is Dr. 
Prince who is present.^ I am all right now — not so nervous.^ 
Why [surprised], Dr. Prince is gone! It isn't you. It is 
some one else — some one you don't know. [Stamps her foot, 
annoyed and angry.] It is Jones [this after much reluctance].^ 
He is talking — talking. He throws himself back on the couch. 
Now I get up. I am standing, talking again. I get some 
scraps of writing paper — some blue, some white " — and a long 
square thing. He is talking and writing, writing, writing. He 
throws down the paper and tries to take hold of me. He does 
that [makes passes in imitation of hypnotizing]. I resent it 
strongly. He sits down again. He shows me his watch. He 
puts it back in his pocket, and takes hold of me again. I go 
like that [shuts her eyes, sways, rubs her eyes]. It is the same 
room. All is changed again. You have come back and are 
standing near the door. I am nervous again [B I]. You are 

B IV, for a moment, was annoyed by the revelations of 
this vision, for she personally knew, and therefore remem- 
bered only that part of the scene which followed her own 
awakening and which ended with B I's reappearance. 
She still knew nothing of her different personalities as 
such; she knew only losses of time. Further, to see now 
a scene in which two other persons (Jones and myself) 

1 In reply to a question. 

2 Here B I has changed to B IV, with the illusion of my identity. 
' For me to take notes ou. See p. 172. 


alternately took part — one changing into the other — was 
contradictory, and, as she could not understand it, annoy- 
ing. The first thing of which she has conscious knowl- 
edge is Jones, sitting on the sofa and asking for writing 
paper, etc.^ Irritated and perplexed, she exclaimed, 
"Who was there? [Stamping her foot.] Anyway, you 
couldn't both be there. You were there, then. Jones 
was there," etc., etc. 

The theory, which arose as a suspicion soon after B TV's 
appearance, had been growing in strength until the idea 
had become almost a conviction. This theory was, it will 
be remembered, that B I was not the Real Miss Beauchamp, 
but that B IV was more nearly the true one; and that at 
some time in the past a psychical catastrophe had taken 
place by which a cleavage had occurred in the original 
consciousness, and B I had become split off as a quasi- 
somnambulistic personage; and that with the appearance 
of B IV there had been a return of or waking up of the 
original Miss Beauchamp. ^ It has been pointed out that 
other cases of this kind had occurred, and that of Rev. 
Ansel Bourne was instanced. The case of Rev. Thomas 
C. Hanna, studied by Dr. Boris Sidis, may also be cited. 
If it were not for interrupting this narrative numerous 
cases might be mentioned to give support to this interpre- 
tation. It was the simplest explanation. It was merely a 
question of evidence. 

With this hypothesis in mind, all three members of 
"the family," as Sally used to speak of them, were inter- 

^ All the details of what took place while B IV was present, B IV recol- 
lects distinctly. Her memory is in entire accord with both my notes and the 

* It was difficult at this time to determine how closely B IV approximated 
the original Miss Beauchamp either in memories or character, owing to the 
fact of my being practically a stranger to B IV, and the consequent difficulty 
of obtaining her confidence. It was a long time before she was willing to 
disclose her consciousness to me. 


rogated, in search of some accident or emotional shock 
which might have caused a split in consciousness. It was 
now for the first time that I learned from all three (Sally, 
B IV, and B I), and again later from B II, the secret which 
had thus far been closely guarded.^ The stories of all 
three agreed in every particular, so far as the memories of 
each went. This is what was first learned from Sally : 

It is necessary to go back six years to the year 1893. 
In 1893 Miss Beauchamp was a nurse in a hospital in 
a neighboring city — let us call it "Providence." The 
passion of her life had been to be a medical nurse, and at 
last, in a fit of idealism, she had entered this hospital. 
One night, while in the nurses' sitting-room conversing 
with a friend, Miss K., she was startled, upon looking up, 
to see a face at the window. It was the face of her old 
friend, William Jones, a man whom with the idealism of 
girlhood she worshipped as a being of a superior order. 
He was much older than she, cultivated, and the embodi- 
ment of the spiritual and the ideal. At first Miss Beau- 
champ thought the face a hallucination, but in a moment, 
seeing that it was a real person, she hastily got Miss K. 
out of the room, making the excuse that she herself was 
needed in the wards. As soon as Miss K. left, Miss Beau- 
champ went down to the door where she met Jones. It 
transpired that he had stopped over in Providence, en 
route to New York, and had wandered up to the hospital. 
Seeing a ladder which had been left by workmen) leaning 
against the side of the building, he had, in a spirit of fun, 
climbed up and looked into the window. At the hospital 
door an exciting scene occurred. It was to Miss Beau- 
champ of an intensely disturbing nature, and gave her a 
tremendous shock. Perhaps I should say here, as I have 
told so much of the story, that it was the kind of thing 

1 Sally told the story October 26 ; B IV, November 1 ; B I, NoTember 
3; B II, November 8 (1899). 


which upon the ordinary person would not have had 
much influence — though it was of an emotional charac- 
ter. Miss Beauchamp, with her sensitive and idealistic 
nature, probably exaggerated its meaning and gave it an 
intensity that an ordinary person would not have given. 
At any rate, it did give her a violent shock. ^ The sur- 
roundings, too, were dramatic. It was night, and pitch 
dark. A storm was passing over, and great peals of 
thunder and flashes of lightning heightened the emotional 
effect. It was only by these flashes that she saw her 

Miss Beauchamp returned to her duties much agitated. 
For several days she was in an excited state. She walked 
the wards by night, and, in the day time when off duty 
and supposed to be asleep, slipped out of the hospital and 
wandered about the fields. Then she began, according to 
Sally's account, gradually to change in character. She 
became nervous, excitable, and neurasthenic. All her 
peculiarities became exaggerated. She became unstable 
and developed aboulia. She grew, too, abnormally reli- 
gious. In other words, she became changed in character, 
and has been changed ever since, " and Jones thinks so, 
too,'^ said Sally. . 

It seemed that at last we had a clew, though as yet in- 
complete, both to the origin of the two personalities, B I 
and B IV, and to the puzzling behavior of B IV on her 
first appearance, June 7. If the hypothesis suggested — 
that B IV is approximately the Real Miss Beauchamp 
— be correct, then several things would be expected to 
follow at her awakening: 

1 The shock of this incident was undoubtedly intensified by Miss Bean- 
champ's nerves having been shaken earlier in the evening by a scene with a 
delirious patient. There was a terrific thunderstorm at the time. Miss B. 
was walking down a dark corridor, when suddenly, in a flash of lightning, 
she saw this patient running toward her. She was much shaken by the 
incident. (See Chapter V, p. 66.) 


First, she would imagine it to be the same day of the 
year and the same time of day that it was when she " went 
to sleep " and disappeared. She would imagine the sur- 
roundings and circumstances to be the same, and the 
whole interval of time which had elapsed during her Rip 
Van Winkle sleep, between her changing to B I and 
her reappearance as B IV, would be a blank. She would 
tend to go on with the occupations she was engaged in 
at that time. This, then, would be the explanation of 
her awakening on June 7, the details of which are intel- 
ligible by this hypothesis. She had " gone to sleep " on 
that eventful night in the hospital and had changed to 
B I. Waking again, June 7, she thought herself still in 
the hospital, in the same room and on the same night 
when Jones appeared at the window. Under the influence 
of this general idea she interpreted her surroundings: 
objects became illusions ; the room became that of the hos- 
pital; and I became Jones. (This creation of an illusion 
by the force of a suggested associated idea has been 
often brought about experimentally with B IV. B I's 
negative hallucinations in regard to the rings are of the 
same order.) Logically, she inferred that I had come in 
through the window, having seen me there a moment 
before. Her criticism of the impropriety of my conduct 
in coming to a hospital in that way was intelligible, as 
well as the criticism of my being there at all at that hour. 
Hence her remarks about the unwisdom of asking for 
her, even at the door, and her joke about my break- 
ing my neck had a point, seeing that she thought the 
room was in the second story of the hospital. Even the 
reason for the illusion was apparent in the association 
of the several events. All this was intelligible by the 

Secondly, if this hypothesis were true, B IV would 
have a perfect memory for her whole life antecedent to 


the hospital episode; while all between that and her 
awakening would be forgotten. ^ 

One point of psychological interest may be pointed out 
in passing. The disintegrating emotional shock occurred 
at the hospital door. The moment when the amnesia of 
B IV began was not as yet quite clear, but presumably the 
loss of memory went back farther, to the moment when 
she saw the face at the window. This is what is known as 
retrograde amnesia^ and frequently follows accidents. The 
loss of memory goes back over a period antedating the 
exciting cause. 

There still remained the testimony of the Idiot herself. 
This was not so easy to obtain. Her habit of pretending 
to know events that occurred during the times when Sally 
and B I were in existence has been already dwelt upon. 
This habit she fortunately has now (1900) given up to a 
large extent. In moments of contrition and friendliness 
she makes a clean breast of everything, but at that time 
she would not only audaciously insist that she had this 
knowledge, but would also maintain an obstinate silence 
regarding herself, to the extent of resenting every inquiry 
into her thoughts and doings. Every interview opened 
with tiresome sparring, which ended only when her defeat 
was crushing. She claimed to know everything — even 
what took place in my presence with Sally and B I. It 
was easy to mislead her, "fishing and guessing" only as 
she was, by deftly worded questions, and then when her 
foot was well in, spring the trap. Thus, it was not difficult, 
by examining her on events of which I had pei"sonal knowl- 
edge, to convict her of pretence, but it was not until com- 

1 I should point out that there was a curious hiatus in her memory. 
Though she remembered Jones's face at the window, she did not apparently 
remember that Miss K. liad been present up to that moment, as shown by her 
denial in .answer to a question. (See Chapter XI., p. 174.) Such freaks of 
memory are not uncommon in these hysterical amnesias. 


pletely cornered that she would become tractable or admit 
that she did not know. 

Sally disliked her almost as much as she did B I, and 
constantly harped upon what she bluntly called her " ly- 
ing." While, strictly speaking, "lying" was the plain 
English of it, yet from B IV's point of view this was jus- 
tifiable, in self-defence. The difficulty of getting the exact 
truth from B IV was increased by the fact that she did, 
indirectly, acquire some imperfect knowledge of the life 
of B I and Sally, by what her friends let drop, and by 
"fishing and guessing," as well as by visions. Occa- 
sional isolated memory pictures also would emerge out of 
the depths of B I's life, and pass into her own conscious- 
ness.^ It was proved, however, that, aside from these 
memory flashes, B IV knew nothing of her life since 
June 7 as B I or Sally. Had she any continuous memory 
of Miss Beauchamp's life before the hospital episode, or 
of the six years intervening between that event and her 
awakening on the seventh of June? 

To understand B IV's attitude of mind, as has been so 
frequently insisted upon, we must not lose sight of the 
fact that she could not appreciate that we really knew 
her intimately ; and, when I stopped to think, I found it 
equally hard to realize that this person, whom I had 
known well for years (though as another personality), felt 
herself a complete stranger to me. It was equally difficult 
for me to assume a manner of formality and drop that of 
intimacy, and vice vei'sa^ from moment to moment as the 
personalities changed before me. Any other attitude than 
that of distant formality B IV resented. 

It became essential that B IV's confidence should be 
gained. I waited patiently an opportunity, when she 
should show a conciliatory mood. One day, November 1, 

1 Never out of Sally's consciousness. See Chapter XV. 


1899,1 after the usual preliminary sparring, she broke 
down and confessed ; apparently becoming tractable, frank, 
and repentant. In this mood she described the events of 
the seventh of June as they appeared to her at the time, 
and also described the hospital affair of six years before. 
My notes of her statement run as follows: 

\_Notehook.'] " When she saw me on the seventh of June for 
the first time, she imagmed she was in the hospital, and that I 
was Joues. She thought it was that same night, six years be- 
fore, when she was sitting in the nurses' room and saw the face 
of Jones at the window. She loas unaware that these six years 
had passed. She mistook me for Jones [by an ilhision], and 
therefore thought that I must have come in through the win- 
dow. This last was an inference, which she had made from the 
fact that she had seen me (as she supposed) a feio moments he- 
fore (instead of years) on the ladder, and therefore supposed I 
had entered in that way. It was (she imagined) the same night, 
and the ladder was there. 

"As to the original adventure, it now seemed to her only 
about one year ago.^ It was about one or two o'clock when 
Jones appeared at the window of the hospital. He had done it 
for a joke. (Here B IV drew a diagram of the room, showing 
the relative positions of the window, Miss K. and herself.) 
' When Miss K. went upstairs I went into the ward because a 
child was crying. I stayed there a few minutes. I don't re- 
member what I did, but I stayed on duty the rest of the night.' 

"'Did n't you go out?' 

" ' No, I could n't go out. I may have gone downstairs.' 

" ' Did n't you see Jones again that night? ' 

"'No; I am sure.'" 

Note the fact that B IV's memory of the event stops 
at the point where she went into the ward ; that is, just 

J See Chapter XIV. 

2 That is, instead of six years. B IV's reappearance was on June 7, 
1899; therefore, since 1893 she had really had about five montiis' existence 
to date, November 1, 1899. 


before the exciting interview. There was therefore retro- 
grade amnesia, as suspected. She did not remember 
going downstairs. Her statement that she had not seen 
Jones again that .night or the next day could not be 
shaken; nor could she say when she saw him again. ^ 

"I now said, '"Fix" your mind [for a vision], and see 
whether you saw him again that night.' She looks straight 
forward and falls into a dreamy state. ' I have got it. Dr. 
Prince. It is curious. I see there are two. No, I don't get it.' 
[Then, much agitated, and withdrawing from what she sees:] 
' No, it is impossible ! No, it is not true ! No, no, no ! I see 
nothing true ! I hear nothing ! ' [She shrinks as if in great 
mental distress.] I urge her on, saying, ' Look, you see your- 
self outside the hospital.' She repeats again, ' It is not true ! 
That did not take place! I see nothing true! I hear nothing 
true!' She continues denying and resisting. I insist, though 
she seems in mental anguish, as if re-enacting what is before 
her. She again ' fixes ' her mind, and apparently follows a 
scene. ' I can see two — [a pause.] No ! I would tell you 
if what I see were true! We separate — [a pause.] No. 
I can't tell you ! ' 

" 'Do you see yourself?* 

" ' Yes, I see myself.' 

'"With whom?' 

"'Jones; but not like himself. All is dark except for the 
flashes of lightning.' She seems abstracted and answers 
dreamily : ' It is not Jones at all, — his face is all drawn, and 
he is very much excited.' Then, coming more to herself, ' He 
was very nervous and excited — not like himself — and as I 
saw myself I seemed so, too. It was dark, and lightning 
flashes lighted up my face and his. I was frightened.' 

" ' Where were you? ' 

"'It must be outside the hospital door. I am absolutely 
sure it is not true. The vision is gone. It was all very horrid. 
I don't like visions like that. It never happened. [Looking 

1 B IV has since stated that she has no recollection of meeting Jones 
again until the summer of 1899, that is, six years later; though Miss Beau- 
champ and Sally have seen him frequently in the last few years. 


again.] I can't tell you more. No, I can't hear anything. 
Now, I see only the trees. He seemed perfectly mad. [She 
shrinks and shudders.] Don't ask me to tell you more ; I can't ! ' 
[She moves her lips inarticulately, as if physically unable to 
speak (aboulia?) and I allow her to come to herself.] 

"B IV says that she has had this same vision several times 
this summer, and that it was 'always the same,' which was 
' queer.' ^ It had made an impression on her in her relations 
with Jones, as if something had come between them. She has 
no idea that the vision is anything more than a fantasy, or an 
experiment without any basis in fact ; and I allow her to re- 
main in this belief, for if B IV is the true Miss Beauchamp 
and is to remain in existence it would be unkind to awaken a 
distressing recollection of this kind. 

"Sally now bounced into existence, highly excited, and be- 
gan vehemently to contradict B IV's statement that the vision 
' was not true.' ' It is true. It is true,' she exclaimed. Then 
Sally, while thinking about the vision, became sad, dreamy, and 
depressed; then suddenly changed back to B IV,^ who said the 
vision had come again but that it was not true. 

"As she was about to leave the room, she again changed to 
Sally, who, however, refused to give further details, for it was 
thinking about the vision, she said, which had brought B IV. 
I insisted upon Sally's thinking of the vision, though she ob- 
jected and accused me of wishing to bring B IV. 'Think 
about it,' I persisted. 'Put your mind on it.' She became 
dreamy, as if half-hypnotized. I bade her tell more. She re- 
fused, shuddered, fought, saying she could n't and I must n't 
ask; 'I can't help telling!' etc. Here I desisted, feeling that 
her wishes should be respected.' It was evident — what I 

1 See Appendix C. 

2 This suppression of Sally, when dwelling in her mind on the thoughts of 
B IV or B I, has a significance which will be reverted to in another con- 

8 It is only right to add that I am certain from what I have since learned 
that it wasonly the youth, inexperience, and extreme impressionability of Miss 
Beauchamp that allowed her feelings to be so wrought upon ; and tliat a more 
experienced person would not have found sufficient in tlie interview to justify 
such an exhibition of emotion. Further tlian this, as I have pointed out 
above, such a vision represents a scene as it was originally seen by the sub- 


wished to learn — that whatever occurred had produced a 
profound shock, and had left a horrible remembrance in 
B I and Sally." 

Summing up what had been learned, the testimony of 
Sally and of B IV was in agreement up to the moment of 
going into the ward, when the memory of B IV ceased. 
After that moment, the statements of Sally were corrobo- 
rated by the vision induced in B IV. 

There remained the evidence of B I and B II. Miss 
Beauchamp was, of course, in entire ignorance of what 
had been stated by the others, and therefore of the fact 
that I had any knowledge of the hospital affair. At fii*st 
surprised and startled at my knowledge, she soon accepted 
the situation and told with complete frankness the whole 
story, just as Sally and B IV had told it, going into every 
detail, with such exceptions as she considered confidential, 
— a reservation the others had made also. She remembered 
everything that B IV remembered, and, besides, all that 
occurred after going into the ward, when B IV's memory 
ceased. Her memory was continuous for the whole epi- 
sode. She confirmed Sally's statements, word for word, 
up to the point of her own change of character, of which 
she had no realization, although, of course, she appreciated 
the impairment of her general health following the shock. 

She added, what I had not realized before, that what 
particularly distressed her was the fact that since that 
eventful night she had tried to break with the past, while 
Sally, by corresponding and making engagements, and 
thereby breaking the promises that B I made, was con- 
stantly putting her in false positions. This was the secret 
of her dread of Sally's correspondence. 

The testimony of B II was not of so much value from 

ject and therefore possibly perverted by the emotions experienced at the 
time. This should be said in extenuation of the other actor in the sceDO 
in case one is tempted to draw uu warranted inferences. 


one point of view, because she necessarily knew all that 
B I and B IV said. From another point it was the most 
valuable of all, for she never quibbled or prevaricated or 
withheld information. She might be called the " soul " of 
Miss Beauchamp, so straight and true were all her thoughts 
and dealings. B II said the account was all true in every 
particular, and, at my request, repeated it again in detail. 

Thus we have the testimony of all four personalities in 

Our previously put questions, whether B IV remem- 
bered the whole of her life antedating the hospital episode, 
in 1893, and whether she had amnesia for the six years 
following, up to June 7, 1899, may now be answered, 
though the answers were not easily obtained. Searching 
inquiry demonstrated that B IV remembered the events of 
the first period as well as Miss Beauchamp remembered 
them; for those of the second period she had no more 
knowledge than she had of the present periods when B I 
was in the flesh. These six years were a blank to her. 
It is unnecessary to enter into the details of the inquiries 
establishing these facts. It would be merely a tedious 
recital of the events of her early life on the one hand, and 
an inability to mention any (excepting "mind-fixing" 
phenomena) belonging to the second six-years' period on 
the other. The observations, continued through the whole 
seven years covering the period of this study, corroborate 
these earlier determined data. 

Putting together all the facts thus far learned which 
bear upon the development of B I and B IV, we are able 
to make the following historical summary, for which the 
evidence is conclusive: Miss Beauchamp was distinct as a 
unity, a single consciousness, up to the summer of 1893. 
At that time there occurred a psychical catastrophe which 
produced a disintegration of consciousness, by which her 
personality changed and she developed into B I. 


B I retained all the memories of her youth, as well as 
of the accident which led to her development; and also, 
of course, of her whole life (that is, exclusive of Sally's 
entrances) during the six years succeeding the accident of 
1893, that is, up to June 7, 1899. She also retained a 
memory of those periodical times when she had been in 
existence since the latter date. She differs from her orig- 
inal state in certain bodily characteristics known as neuras- 
thenia, and in certain mental characteristics — instability 
and suggestibility — and, above all, in certain alterations 
of character. B I therefore remained the sole personality 
in existence for six years — to June 7, 1899 — when, ow- 
ing to some cause thus far unknown, a hitherto unobserved 
personality was awakened, which in associations of mem- 
ory reverted to a past period of life, namely, that which 
antedated and ended with the aforesaid catastrophe of 

This personality (IV) apparently belonged to that earlier 
period, and remembered the events of her life up to a cer- 
tain hour, namely, that just preceding the incident which 
caused the psychical shock, at which time her memory 
ceased. From that eventful moment this new personality 
had absolutely no memory of anything that occurred dur- 
ing the ^* "^llowinof six years, ending June 7, 1899. Since 
this last date she knows and remembers only the events 
that have happened during those interrupted periods when 
she herself has been in existence. Since her appearance 
she has been constantly alternating with B I and with 

The life of Miss Beauchamp has been a constant suc- 
cession of independent mental states known as B I, B IV, 
and B III. B IV has known nothing of B I, and B I 
nothing of B IV, while Sally (B III) has had a knowledge 
of both the others, although her knowledge of each has 
differed in some important particular. Thus B IV and 


B I each has knowledge of the events which happened to 
the unaltered personality before 1893; but since the dis- 
integration, each has been cognizant only of the events 
experienced by herself as a separate personalit}'. 

Such were the facts as they had developed up to Novem- 
ber, 1899. But there remained one fact in the develop- 
ment of B IV which was as yet undisclosed. What was 
it that caused B IV to be awakened June 7? Thus far 
I had no inkling that anything had occurred which could 
have brought it about. But I became convinced that 
something must have occurred to reawaken B IV, — if 
that is the proper interpretation. As an inquisitor I set 
about the task, and closely interrogated B II, Sally, and 
B I. B IV, of course, could have no knowledge of any 
event of this kind, for she was then "asleep." After 
close questioning, B II told the following: 

On the afternoon of June 7 Miss Beauchamp was in 
my office. After leaving she went to the Boston Public 
Library. B II had a vivid memory of this afternoon. She 
described accurately the people whom she saw in my office, 
and each succeeding event after her departure. She told 
the route she took in her walk to the Library, and the title 
of the book read after her arrival. At this point I put 
abruptly the question, "What else did you *^ jthere?" 
She became frightened, shrinking from me as one might 
from some horrible dream. Her features were expressive 
of mental distress, and she begged to be allowed to open 
her eyes. It was evident that something had happened. 
Finally, though hesitatingly, B II completed her story: 

In the Library Miss Beauchamp, quite accidentally, so 
far as she was concerned, met a messenger who was the 
bearer of a letter from Jones. ^ The letter was couched 
in the same sort of language as that which he had used 
on the memorable night in August, 1893. The tone and 

1 Probably this had been arranged by Sally. 


language of the letter recalled the scene of that night, 
bringing the whole vividly back to her. She became highly 
nervous and excited, and then and there had a vision of 
the scene in which she met Jones outside the hospital 
door. She could hear his voice speaking as he did then ; 
and the whole — the letter and the memory — gave her a 
profound shock, agitating her as she had been agitated 
six years before. She was profoundly moved and upset. 
While in this condition of extreme agitation she went into 
the Newspaper Room and there had a hallucination. In 
large headlines in a newspaper there was the announce- 
ment of the death of a relative of mine. Miss Beauchamp 
either misread the name, or, more probably, through a 
hallucination, saw it as mine. Under this additional 
shock she returned home in a state of great nervousness. 
The succeeding events of the day I knew. Her condi- 
tion after reaching home was such that even Sally became 
alarmed, and, hoping to quiet her, scribbled the following 
note on a piece of paper: 

" Are you mad ? Dr. Prince is as much alive as you are. It 
is his father who is dead." ^ 

Almost immediately after her return home I was sent 
for. On arrival I found her as she has been previously 
described. Then followed the awakening of B IV, her 
mistaking me for Jones, etc. Undoubtedly, then, what 
had awakened B IV was the reawakening of the hospital 
episode by suggestion and association of ideas. Later 
Miss Beauchamp herself corroborated this story. 

While B II was giving this account a characteristic inci- 

1 This note I have. The dramatic character of the sitaatiou is striking. 
Imagine a highly excited hysterical, rattled consciousness ; besides this, 
another consciousness, calm and observant, taking in the scene, and finally, 
becoming alarmed about the consequences, writing a message to the first con- 
scioDsness to correct its delusion. The second consciousness both recognized 
the deloBion and clearly oriented the environment. 


dent occurred. She began to repeat the Public Library 
letter verbatim, when suddenly her lips refused to speak. 
She was seized with aboulia. Sally had interfered, stopped 
her, and then came herself. She refused to allow her to 
tell more, but said it was all true. 
Was B IV the Real Miss Beauchamp ? 






ON reviewing the results of our studies up to this point, 
it will be apparent that we are still far from being in 
possession of an adequate psychological explanation of the 
phenomena of multiple personality, as manifested by this 

What has been shown is : 1st, the reality of a number of 
distinct groups of mental states in the same individual, 
and that these groups may be accurately characterized as 
personalities ; 2d, the historical course of their develop- 
ment; 3d, the etiological conditions which gave rise to 
them, that is, the immediate exciting causes ; 4th, at times, 
the coexistence and, autonomous activity of one particular 
(B III) with each of the others ; 5th, the successive inter- 
changing of each of the personalities. Finally the fact is 
worth emphasizing that each one, if not interfered with by 
the others or by the emotional shocks of her environment, 
might have monopolized existence and pursued her social 
life as any other freeborn citizen, — as B I actually did 
for six years. In other words. Miss Beauchamp, if not 
interfered with, might have continued indefinitely in any 
one of her states. 

In dealing in geneml with the broad problem of mul- 
tiple, or, more correctly, disintegrated personality, several 


important questions await us, such as, What is a person- 
ality? Is there any particular normal real self? and, 
What are the psychological or physiological alterations 
which determine the division of personality and permit one 
and the same individual to have multiple mental lives? 
For the present, however, we are concerned only with the 
specific problems of this specific case, and of these perhaps 
the primary question at this particular epoch of this study 
was : Which of the personalities is the true and original 
Miss Beauchamp, or is any one of them she ? If not, where 
is the real self ? What has become of her ? These ques- 
tions had to be answered before the others could be solved. 
It may be argued, and with force, that underlying this 
question of the Real Miss Beauchamp is that of whether 
there is any particular normal real self. It must be ad- 
mitted that the question of what constitutes a normal and 
real self is fundamental to the understanding of multiple 
personality. " What constitutes a disintegrated self?" is 
the same question in another form. It is a very practical 
one, and enters more than is generally supposed into the 
every-day clinical problems of the psychoses. A want of 
proper consideration of this question has given rise in not 
a few instances, as I view the matter, to a wrong interpre- 
tation of the psychological phenomena of disintegrated per- 
sonality. The conception has even been entertained that 
any one of the secondary states into which the original self 
may be broken up may be quite as normal as the original, 
and may be equally entitled to be regarded as the " real self." 
Indeed in specific instances the secondary self, or what has 
been supposed to be a secondary self, has been considered 
to be superior to the normal self. Thus, for instance, 
Binet describes the " secondary " state of F^lida X. as 
superior to the normal self, in that " all her faculties seem 
to be more fully developed .and more complete." ^ 

1 AlteratiouB of Personality, p. 9. 


The suspicion does not seem to have arisen that the so- 
called secondary state may have been the normal state ; and 
yet this interpretation of the superior self's being a second- 
ary one has come in not a few instances, as I hope to show 
in another place, from mistaking a disintegrated state be- 
cause first observed, for the real self and the real self for 
a disintegrated state. The state which has been observed 
secondarily in time has been assumed to be psychologically 
secondary though it may well have been the normal state.^ 

Again, approaching the subject from a purely psycho- 
logical point of view, it has been held that of the various 
possible selves which may be formed out of the " mass of 
consciousness " belonging to any given individual, there is 
no particular real or normal self ; one may be just as real 
and just as normal as another, excepting so far as one or the 
other is best adapted to a particular environment. If the 
environment were changed, another self might be the nor- 
mal one. But the psychological point of view is too 
limited. What test have we of adaptation? There is a 
physiological point of view as well, and also a biological 
point of view, from which personality must be considered. 
A normal self must be able to adjust itself physiologically 
to its environment, otherwise all soi-ts of perverted re- 
actions of the body arise (anesthesia, instability, neuras- 
thenic symptoms, etc.), along with psychological stigmata 
(amnesia, suggestibility, etc.), and it becomes a sick self. 
Common experience shows that, philosophize as you will, 
there is an empirical self which may be designated the real 
normal self. However, I shall put aside this question for 
tlie present and assume that there is a normal self, a par- 
ticular Miss Beauchamp, who is physiologically as well as 
psychologically best adapted to any environment. 

' Besides the cnse of Felida X., that of Marcelline R., reported by Dr. Jules 
Janet, and that of Mary Reynolds, republished by Dr. S. Weir Mitchell, may 
be cited as further examples. 


This self should be free from mental and physical stig- 
mata (suggestibility, amnesia, aboulia, anesthesia, etc.), 
which commonly characterize the disintegrated states mak- 
ing up multiple personality. Such a self may be termed 
the real self, in the sense that it is not an artificial 
product of special influences, but the one which is the re- 
sultant of the harmonious integration of all the processes, 
both physiological and psychological, of the individual. 
Any other self is a sick self. I shall return to this ques- 
tion at another time and in another place. Meanwhile I 
shall ask that this view be provisionally accepted, as I be- 
lieve it will be justified in this case by the final outcome, 
and that it can be shown to be the correct interpretation 
of the phenomena of multiple personality. 

In the hunt for the real self the greatest difficulty lay 
in deciding between B I and B IV. Sally, whoever she 
might be, was clearly not the original Miss Beauchamp, 
and not a normal person. All the evidence pointed con- 
clusively to the view that Sally, by all odds the most 
interesting of the personalities, was some sort of a dis- 
sociated group of conscious states, and therefore the psy- 
chological explanation of this young lady was, to this 
extent at least, comparatively simple. 
^ The explanation that first suggested itself was that 
which has already been given in the last chapter, namely, 
that Miss Beauchamp was a somnambulistic personage, and 
that B IV was the real and original self who had at last 
waked up. As already pointed out, persons to whom this 
has happened are not so very uncommon. Instances of this 
mental accident are chronicled from time to time in the 
daily press, and awaken more or less sensational interest. 
Besides the cases already cited in the last chapter, another 
and more recent case ^ is that of Charles W., who, after the 

1 Reported by Dr. Edward E. Mayer, Jonmal of the American Medical 
Association, December 14, 1901. This case in many ways resembles that of 


shock of a railway accident, changed in disposition and 
other mental as well as bodily characteristics. Seventeen 
years later, as the result of another shock, he woke up 
with complete loss of memory for everything that had oc- 
curred during this interval, and found himself married and 
the father of four children ! On waking, he thought the 
time was that immediately following the railway accident, 
and his first words were, "Am I much hurt ? " When 
asked if he would like to see his children he exclaimed, " I 
am not married. It is a nice thing for a man twenty-four 
years of age to wake up and be told that he is the father of 
four children I " 

While these studies in Miss Beauchamp's case were be- 
ing pursued, another case of double personality, Mrs. 

J n, came under my observation. Nine years before 

she had been subjected to a mental shock, and ever since 
had been in poor health and exhibited various nervous 
symptoms. Thus far she resembled B I. One day, while 
I was attempting to hypnotize her, she suddenly changed in 
manner, her attitude and mode of speech became different 
from what they had been, her symptoms vanished, her 
memory for the past nine years became obliterated, and she 
thought it was the morning of the day nine years before, 
when she had received the nervous shock. She thought 
she had come into the city to do some errands, as she had 
done on that day, and that she was now on her way home. 
This case disappeared from observation before I had a 
chance to complete my study of it, but I was struck with 
the resemblance of the new Mrs. J. to B IV, and the same 
question arose. Is it the original personality who has 
awakened out of somnambulism? 

In respect to amnesia. Dr. Hodgson's case of Bourne, and 

Miss Beauchamp, and possibly deeper study might have disclosed phenomena 
which would require the same explanation which was finally arrived at in 
Miss Beauchamp's case, instead of the interpretation given by Mayer, 


Dr. Mayer's case differed, to be sure, from that of Miss 
Beauchamp. Bourne and Charles W. in their second states 
had no memory of their previous lives, while B I's memory 
was continuous for her whole life preceding the accident. 
But we have seen that amnesia is in no way an essential 
part of disintegrated personality. Sally indeed was with- 
out amnesia, if we limit our tests to the facts of conduct 
and external life and do not include those of the intellectual 

There was no serious objection, then, to regarding B I as 
a quasi-disintegmted somnambulistic person, in spite of the 
continuity of her memory. According to this hypothesis, 
the failure of B IV to remember the period following the 
hospital accident in 1893 might be classed as what is known 
as anterograde amnesia ; just as her loss of memory for 
the short period intervening between her leaving the room 
and the emotional shock in the doorway, that is, for the 
period immediately preceding the shock, would be classed 
as retrograde amnesia. The former is called anterograde 
because it goes ahead of the emotional crisis, while the 
retrograde amnesia involves a period of time antedating 
the accident ; just as a person who has received a cerebral 
concussion may lose all memory, not only for the acci- 
dent itself, but for a definite period of time immediately 
preceding it. 

Following this point of view, if we suppose that Miss 
Beauchamp had a severe emotional shock in the doorway of 
the hospital, we may also suppose that she only partially 
waked up after recoveiy from the emotion-psychosis, al- 
though seeming comparatively nonnal. In this state she 
may be supposed to have remained for six years, when she 
awoke completely as B IV, with anterograde amnesia for 
the preceding six years. 

The somnambulistic theory, then, and the reawakening 
of the original person, in spite of the persistence of memory 


in B I, was the simplest explanation of this strange case, 
and was in accord with what we know may occur in certain 
individuals of unstable mental equilibrium. There was 
nothing forced or unusual in this theory. But it must be 
borne in mind that this, though as yet only a working 
hypothesis, had already borne fruit in leading to the dis- 
covery of the hospital catastrophe and the scene in the 
Public Library. The hypothesis rested thus far on inade- 
quate data, and on inferences. There was much to be said 
in its favor. It explained the various peculiarities of 
memory and behavior in B IV on her first appearance, and 
by it many peculiarities manifested by Miss Beauchamp 
herself became intelligible. Some of these latter pheno- 
mena were difficult to reconcile with a normal personality, 
even though neurasthenic. They plainly were the stig- 
mata of hysteria, and if Miss Beauchamp was a disin- 
tegrated personality, as the hypothesis made her, she would 
be expected to exhibit them. 

Among the most striking of these phenomena may be 
instanced : her aboulia ; her extreme suggestibility in the 
waking state ; her impressionability to her environment ; 
the ease with which visions and negative hallucinations 
were created ; the dissociation of consciousness by which 
another coexistent personality (B III) manifested automa- 
tisms ; the mobility of her neurasthenia, exhibited by the 
rapidity with which it was induced by a passing emotion 
and removed by a suggestion ; and finally, the way in which 
the ideas and emotions of the moment dominated her mmd 
to the exclusion of everything else and acquired an inten- 
sity unusual in normal minds. The intensity of her 
religious feelings may be recalled in illustration of the 
last. Whether the very saintliness of her character, her 
absolute freedom from the petty weaknesses which char- 
acteiize liuman nature, is compatible with a normal human 
being, I do not pass upon. I merel}^ point out that no one 


seems ever to have observed in her irritability of temper, 
rudeness of speech, retaliation for injury, jealousy, envy, 
or malice, which in some degree characterize stronger 

Then, too, the hypothesis made attractively simple why 
B IV, on her first appearance, imagined that she was living 
at almost the exact time and place that she went to sleep, 
so to speak, six years previously. Her apparent health, 
also, both mental and physical, supported the hypothesis. 

The chief obstacles to the verification of the hypothesis 
were : lack of personal knowledge of Miss Beauchamp's 
character before the accident of 1893 ; B IV's obstinate 
refusal to disclose her own present mental life, and Sally's 
ignorance of it, Sally chafed, too, at being obliged to talk 
psychology and " that kind of stuff," so that it was difficult 
to get much out of her. One day, however, she gave a 
flood of information regarding the personality of B IV, 
much of which has already been related in Chapters XI 
and XIII. Sally became for the moment serious and 
earnest, showing great intelligence and perspicacity in her 
analysis of the psychological and other facts. She discussed 
them with intelligence and interest, went over the history 
of the past year, explained many facts which were obscure, 
and recalled others which I had overlooked. Reference 
to my notebook showed that Sally's memory was correct.^ 
Her theory of B IV, which she was careful to explain was 
only a theory, was afterward written out by her at length. 

[Notebook.] " Sally prefaced her theory by saying with some 
diffidence that she did not know whether or not she was right. 
She thinks the Idiot like Miss Beauchamp as she used to be, 

1 The accuracy of Sally's memory was extraordinary, and would furnish 
a study in itself. I have known her to repeat word for word the contents 
of a letter written a long time previously, and she could remember the minutest 
details of incidents such as I could not possibly remember, but could verify by 
my records. It is also true that all t)ie persoualities have extraordinarily accu- 
rate memories for their own respective lives. 


but not 'up to date.' She is like Miss Beauchamp as slae was 
wheu a young girl about fourteen years of age, and ' Jones says 
so too.' [About years and dates Sally is not accurate, having 
very little comprehension of time ; twenty years and fourteen 
would be the same to her.] ■ She thinks the Idiot goes back 
mentally to about the time of the hospital episode, when she 
received the mental shock. She does not mean that to the Idiot 
it is exactly that time, but that she is living in her imagination 
at about that time, and has forgotten all between that time and 
now. ' Don't you remember,' said Sally, ' that she did not 
know you when she first came, and thought you had come 
through the window? She thought the time was that of the hos- 
pital affair. You remember she did n't recognize your office at 
her first visit here, and she only half knows you. She does n't 
know much about you. She goes back partly to old times, with 
a sprinkling of modern times ; that is, she is always fishing and 
guessing, and what she gets from modern times she gets by 
suggestions from other people. When she is talking with Jones 
she almost invariably goes back to old times and speaks of 
them as if they were present. I think she has impressions as 
if she were living at that time. She knoios it is n't years ago, 
but all the same she talks hardly at all of things that have hap- 
pened between, excepting wheu people suggest to her events 
that have happened since.' " 

Sally then went on to illustrate her views by recalling 
various facts, such as that the Idiot had referred to Mrs. 
X. by her maiden name. Miss D. (Miss D. had been mar- 
ried since the hospital affair), that she kept calling Dr. 
Hodgson Dr. Y., some one she had known in Providence, 
and that she had written Jones two letters (destroyed by 
Sally) referring to hospital times as if she were still living 
in them, etc. 

" She knows," Sally argued, " everything relating to the 
present that has occurred while she herself is in existence, 
and guesses from what she sees and hears about the times 
when she is ' dead.' " 

The rest of Sally's statement may be briefly summarized 


as follows : B IV and B II were not identical because she 
(Sally) knew the thoughts of B II but not of B IV ; B IV 
never appeared until June 7 ; B II knew all about B I 
while B IV knew nothing of her ; B II had no spontaneity, 
but confined herself simply to answering questions like a 
person in hypnosis ; and the Idiot was without the maturity 
which the last six years' experience, if she had had it, 
would have given her. 

In other woids, according to Sally's idea, the problem 
was very simple : B IV, the original Miss Beauchamp (as 
she was before the nervous shock at Providence), now 
waking up, after a six years' sleep, had not as yet become 
accustomed to the changed circumstances in which she 
found herself. As all her associations were those of the 
year 1893, she went back in her mind to tliat time and 
spoke and acted as if she were living then. She was not 
actually under the delusion that she was living then, for 
she had learned the contrary, but her thoughts kept relaps- 
ing from time to time. 

These latter statements were observations of fact about 
which there was no question. Whether the inference was 
justifiable that this personality was the original self was 
another question, and largely depended upon the deter- 
mination of her character, and of her mental and physical 
qualities as well as memories. 

The question then, whether this personality was the 
original self or not, was of the greatest importance, for on 
its solution hung Miss Beauchamp's fate. Plainly, if 
B IV were the real self, she must be kept and the others 
annihilated. Poor Miss Beauchamp, the saint, whom we 
knew so well, whom we had protected and cared for, 
would be only a dissociated personality, a somnambulist, 
and must no longer be allowed to live. This person must 
never be seen again. Every friendly association must be 
broken as through physical death. But how obtain the 


evidence sufficient for proof ? Here were two people, 
either of whom might be the real self, while there was no 
reason to suspect that there was any other personality not 
yet known. Which was the real one ? The only way to 
solve the problem was to study the personalities day by 
day ; to follow every thread of evidence ; to study the 
characteristics, the habits, the memories, the thoughts, the 
mental reactions of each ; to determine which personality 
was comportable with abnormality and which with nor- 
mality, and so find the real seK ; then, regardless of per- 
sonal associations, annihilate the other. 

The difficulty of understanding the Idiot is illustrated 
by the fact that even Sally, upon the very day she elabo- 
rated her theory, began to wobble a bit in her opinion. 

"I am sending you the letters/' she wrote, "the spooky 
message,^ and also some objections to my theory concerning the 
Idiot, though I am afraid you know all about her and have 
only been teasing me to-day. But if she really is Miss B., 
why is she so unlike her in some ways ; for instance, in being 
so awfully impatient and quick-tempered? Miss B. never was. 
And in telling lies, and forgetting, and all that sort of 
thing — that isn't like Miss B. really, not in the least — nor 
even like me, bad as you all think me. And then she knows 
some things that we have acquired recently, as shorthand, 
though I believe she fishes for her shorthand in some such way as 
she does for other things. But you know best. Do let me help 
you, if I can. I never dreamed of all this stuff making any dif- 
ference, or being of any real interest in your work, — and even 
now I don't quite see its importance? But I will tell you every- 
thing I can, nevertheless, and if you won't please criticise the 
. . . letters, perhaps I may get them or copies of them for you. 
Shall I, or are they too old now ? " 

These objections could not be taken too seriously. All 
the departures noticed by Sally from Miss Beauchamp's 

1 Some automatic writing. 


foiiner habits of thought and conduct could be logically 
explained by the change of times, circumstances, and con- 
ditions in which she found herself. The saintliest of 
characters might find a justification in prevaricating and 
fibbing if she should wake up after a six yeai-s' sleep to 
find herself in a strange land and among strange people, 
who not only had an unaccountable familiarity with her 
life, but were constantly inquiring into and managing 
her affairs and herself. Such a saint could hardly be ex- 
pected to be patient under the surveillance of a stranger, 
or to submit to it without remonstrance. If there were 
some old acquaintances as well as strangers, times had 
changed and B IV could not be expected to realize the 
change in her relations to former friends thus brought 
about. Also, Sally did not know what B IV really 
thought, so her moral criticisms, which, after all, were 
made from the point of view of a child, could not be taken 
too seriously. She was shocked as a child might be. 

A psychological objection to B I V's being the Real Miss 
Beauchamp lay in the very fact that Sally did not know 
her thoughts, as she knew those of Miss Beauchamp before 
1893. But it might be argued that some internal modi- 
fication had occurred, and it did not seem safe to lay too 
much stress upon this fact. 

One day (November 1) I took the Idiot into my con- 
fidence and explained what we were trying to do to help 
her, her relations to her new friends, how it had come 
about that she was under professional care, and some 
things of her past life which were unknown to her, but 
nothing of the hospital accident in 1893. Confidence begets 
confidence. She listened intently to the story which made 
clear the conditions in which she had found herself mys- 
teriously placed; the fact, previously incomprehensible, 
that we were not strangers, but friends of long standing ; 
and finally, the motives of those of us who were interested 


in her welfare. It all came to her as a revelation, and she 
seemed deeply grateful. For the first time she became 
candid, natural, and frank. Apparently desirous of coop- 
erating in every way, without knowing that I had already 
been informed by Sally {October 26), she told her side of the 
story of the episode of June 7 (already narrated) ,i and gave 
a full account of her childhood up to the eventful evening 
in the hospital in 1893. Of this early hfe she exhibited 
a complete knowledge up to that date. Now for the first 
time she admitted the periods of amnesia which had been 
proved against her over and over again, and explained her 
apparent knowledge of these periods. It came from, first, 
what had been told her, and guessing and inferring (she 
has learned from friends that she was lately taught short- 
hand, and is thus able to account for her knowledge of this 
subject) ; second, occasionally from certain things coming 
hazily and unconsciously into her mind out of the nowhere, 
without connection with anything else ; third, from volun- 
tarily producing visions ; and fourth, from " fixing her 
mind." She gave an exhibition of the last method. Her 
knowledge of her life in college, relatively meagre as it is, 
has been supplemented by frequent references made to it by 
her friends. 

In all these ways she has artfully gained considerable 
knowledge of certain blank periods in her life ; enough to 
convey to an ordinary observer the impression that she 
knows all. B IV — she can no longer be called the Idiot 
— further very frankly explained her motives for not ad- 
mitting her ignorance. She thought that she would veri- 
tably appear as an " idiot " if she seemed not to know about 
herself. As most of her present acquaintances, including 
myself, are strangers to her, she is reticent about confiding 

* This was the occasion described in Chapter XIII, when IV corroborated 
Sally's statement, and had the crystal vision of the scene outside the hospital 


her affairs to them. It was difficult, she went on to say, 
to realize that I knew her well, and she found it hard to 
accommodate herself to this idea. 

As B IV told her story, her whole line of conduct seemed 
consistent with rationalism from her point of view. It is 
worth while pointing out here that the accuracy of B IV's 
statements was shown by the fact that frequently when my 
memory of the events (which I knew about personally)* was 
at fault, B IV corrected me, and always rightly, as shown 
by my records. B IV herself, at a later period, analyzed her 
conduct in a way that gave it a rational interpretation. 

"I am afraid," she wrote, " I can hardly analyze my conduct 
toward you. It has depended partly on my own mood, and 
partly on the spirit in which it seemed you met me. I dis- 
liked exceedingly your assuming such control over me, as 
if I were indeed as helpless as I felt. And I disliked, too, 
your continually calling me to account for things I had said 
and doire — things I could not possibly remember at the mo- 
ment, with your ' eagle eye ' fixed upon me. You had me 
at the greatest disadvantage always — a disadvantage which 
should have taught me humility and a becoming submission, 
I suppose. But it did not. It simply annoyed and irritated 
me, and made me determine not to give in to you. I 
thought you could not know the things you asserted, while 
practically every one else was ignorant of them. Your as- 
sertions must be founded on the same bases as my own, 
and they were worth no more. I would deny everything, 
defy you, and fight it out. And in doing this I quickly saw 
that, to a certain extent at least, I was right. You were 
puzzled. You half believed what I said. And so I kept 
on. Does this make it clear to you? Rather a disgraceful 
confession, is it not? but you would have it. ... I believe 
— I do, really — in spite of the preceding, that once upon a 
time I used to be almost morbidly conscientious in regard to 
the truth, even refraining from the use of many conventional, 
every-day — " 


This was unfinished, as if at this point she had changed 
to Sally — a common experience with the two superior 
members of the family. 

B IV was so natural and simple during the interview 
which has just been described, and explained her point of 
view so logically, that the hypothesis that she was the real 
and original self gained greatly in favor. The evidence for 
this view had become exceedingly strong. From the data 
thus far accumulated it seemed fairly certain that she was 
the real Miss Beauchamp, and therefore, if we were to bring 
about a cure, must be made to stay, while the Miss Beau- 
champ who up to this time had been the object of our care, 
had been educated in college, had been the solicitude of 
many friends, who belonged to a circle in which she was 
literally beloved and respected by every one with whom she 
was brought into close contact, — this Miss Beauchamp was 
not, properly speaking, a real person, but a dissociated per- 
sonality, a quasi-somnambulist, rightfully distinguished as 
B I. She must be made to disappear, to go back into the 
unknown whence she came. This, under the hypothesis, 
seemed to be the hard logic of events. 

The situation was a dramatic one. If one pauses to think 
over all that this meant, and to apply it to oneself (for each 
one of these personalities is as individual as any one of us), 
one can realize the full meaning of the verdict that a self, 
with all its memories, feelings, and sentiments, must be 
annihilated. It was the annihilation of the individual. 

The evidence seemed to be sufficiently strong to justify 
the hypothesis being accepted, provisionally at least, and 
B I was condemned to be sacrificed. So all therapeutic 
effort was directed toward extinguishing B I and keeping 
B IV in existence. As a matter of fact, during the 
summer and autumn the new character had tended spon- 
taneously to keep more and more in existence, while Miss 
Beauchamp receded correspondingly into oblivion. The 


latter's discouragement grew as she found herself, not- 
withstanding improved physical health, apparently relaps- 
ing mentally more and more. What we thought was a 
return to health (B IV) to her was increasing ailment. 
If the disagreeable job had to be done, the quicker and 
more thoroughly the better. So again and again by sug- 
gestion she was changed to B IV. Sally's cooperation 
was also secured ; she agreed to extinguish B I as often 
as she came, and to transform her to B IV. So between 
us B I had but few moments of existence. It seemed to 
her, when she did come, that her malady was hopeless, and 
her discouragement became overwhelming. 

After this had been going on for some time Sally, who 
was on her good behavior and in a helpful mood (in con- 
sequence of a threat to send her to an asylum), one day 
" folded herself up," ^ fixed her thoughts upon B I, and 
as she did so a change came over her and Miss Beau- 
champ was in her place. At once the vivaciousness and 
gayety of Sally were gone, and in place of smiles and fun 
her face wore an expression of weariness and sadness. 
She was manifestly agitated. What was going on in her 
mind was plain : she had awakened to find herself in my 
ofl&ce, without remembrance or knowledge of how she 
got there. The lights were burning, so that she knew 
it was late, and from past experience guessed that she had 
been there a long time — probably since early afternoon — 
and, what always troubled her, had absorbed a correspond- 
ing portion of my time. She had come to herself for the 
first time in several days, and the consciousness of the time 
she had lost, and of the increasing frequency of her relapses, 
showing that her condition was growing worse instead of 
better, — for to her the annihilation of self was increase of 
disease, — all this gave her a feeling of hopelessness which 

1 Sally's expression for patting herself into a state of abstraction and 
changing herself to B I or to B IV. 


expressed itself in her face, in her voice, and in her every 
movement. It was impossible to explain that her extinc- 
tion meant the growth of her true self, of whom she knew 

As she sat before me, the embodiment of nervousness, 
unable to keep her body in repose a single second, trying 
to explain why she had come (which she did not know), 
apologizing for detaining me, and finally wearily telling, in 
response to my inquiry, her mental troubles, one would not 
have been human not to sympathize with and pity her. 
She told of how she was unceasingly losing time (what 
I was trying to bring about), until she knew almost noth- 
ing of the past week, of what she had done or what new 
responsibilities had been assumed. For the first time she 
missed the letters of Sally, for, stinging though they were, 
they at least kept her informed of how her days had been 
passed. Physically, she was a great deal better than she 
had ever been, and she could not understand why she was 
worse mentally. She had fought the fight, she said, and 
had done her best, but in spite of all, her trouble was 
increasing. To go on in this condition was impossible. 
It would trouble no one, she thought, if she ended her 
life, and she felt that she would be justified in doing so. 

The most callous must have been moved by this pathetic 
figure, hopeless and dejected. As she talked, my mind 
went back over the events of the past two years. I re- 
membered all that she had gone through — her trials, 
anxieties, and physical sufferings — and the unending 
patience with which she had borne not only the physical 
ailments, the sleepless nights and days of pain, but the 
false positions in which she was persistently placed, the 
constant misconceptions by friends of her character and 
actions, all unexplainable and about which she must be 
silent, the taunts and jibes aimed at herself in Sally's 
letters which she believed to be true, and the loss of pre- 


cious possessions, to say nothing of the countless petty 
daily annoyances, like the destruction of the product of 
days and weeks of labor, — all this passed through my 
mind. The patience with which it had been borne showed 
a heroism rarely seen, even in the sick room. Though it 
might be that she was not her real and original self, she 
was as truly an individual as any one that ever lived. She 
had her friends and associations, equally dear to her. Now 
all her psychical life was disappearing, though what to 
her was only deepening mental trouble was really, as we 
believed, her salvation, the bringing of her true self. She 
could not be told this, however. It would be impossi- 
ble for her to be satisfied with a cure which was self- 
annihilation ; and not only the annihilation of self, but of 
her ideals and of every sentiment and thought she held 
dear. It would be useless to tell her that she would, though 
another character, still live, for that still meant the anni- 
hilation of all her associations and memories of the past 
six years. She could not understand who or what she was 
to be, and how could this be sufficient for life ? It meant 
too that she would become a character of whom she highly 
disapproved, whose actions for months had caused her infi- 
nite distress, and whose conduct, as she interpreted it 
from her limited data, seemed to depart from the high 
ideals which she had set before herself. Such a character 
she could never reconcile herself to be. 

In my thoughts the annihilation of Miss Beauchamp 
seemed in no way different from saying that she must be 
satisfied with death. It seemed hard to tell her that this 
annihilation was being purposely brought about. It seemed 
kinder to let her disappear, ignorant of her coming fate, 
unconscious of the future that awaited her as her Real 
Self. There would be less mental pain for her, — and 
yet, it seemed like a crime we were committing. It was a 
psychical murder. 


Venturing tentatively to hint at the question of self- 
annihilation, I asked her whether she would be content to 
get perfectly well, at the sacrifice of all memory of her life 
from the hospital episode to the present time, remembering 
everything before that event, and from this moment on. 
As she thought about it she fell into a state of revery in 
which she did not seem to hear my voice. Again her face 
changed : the expression of weariness and sadness vanished, 
and in its place was one of strength and self-reliance, as 
of one quite capable of wrestling with the world. When 
she spoke her voice too had changed, no longer expressing 
discouragement, but the manner and thought of a person 
in normal relations with her environment. The tone was 
natural, dignified, and indicative of self-confidence. The 
character of the personality had plainly changed. She had 
no shattered ideals, no intensity of sentiment, no discour- 
agement from overwhelming obstacles, but, content with 
the conditions as she found them, she sought only to pro- 
long her own personality. It was B IV. 

B IV appeared to great advantage. Her conversation 
was most natural and rational in contrast with those pre- 
vious interviews, taken up as they had been with tiresome 
debate. In extenuation of her habit of bringing visions, 
she said that this was the only practical way she had of 
informing herself of what had happened in her life, of her 
relations to other people and events. She then went on 
to explain the embarrassing positions in which she was 
constantly being placed. She would find herself in strange 
places without any idea of how she got there, talking to 
strange people, and in intimate relationship witli persons 
whom she did not know. People talked to her as if she 
were familiar with things of which she knew nothing, and 
as if she had done things of which she was totally igno- 
rant. She was thus constiintly placed in embarrassing 
positions, and was afraid of appearing like an idiot if she 


confessed her ignorance. Thus it was that she had got 
into the habit of fishing, inferring, and guessing ; pretend- 
ing to know things about which she was absolutely ig- 
norant. She most frankly described how she quibbled, 
evaded, guessed, and jumped at conclusions which were 
often wrong. Thus the habit of fibbing had grown up to 
conceal her ignorance. 

Believing that this at last was the Real Miss Beauchamp, 
I told her she was entitled to know everytliing, and in 
time should know all (meaning the phenomena of per- 
sonalities). I then explained briefly that she had re- 
ceived a shock in the hospital at Providence (emphasis 
being put upon the fright from the lightning and from the 
delirious patient, though Jones was mentioned), in conse- 
quence of which she had changed, and that now, from time 
to time, she continued to change so as to lose and regain 
her memories. I explained the two personalities, B I and 
B IV, but said nothing of Sally or of the real shock. To 
this she replied that if this were all she was content to 
wait for a full explanation. She had inferred that there 
had been some terrible calamity which we were trying 
to keep from her. 

No one, hearing the conversation and regarding her, 
could have recognized anything abnormal, or observed in 
B IV any characteristics other than those of an intelligent 
person. She was not discouraged, as was Miss Beau- 
champ ; only annoyed at difficulties to be overcome. Her 
earnestness in telling her story was convincing. Finally 
she rose to go, apparently relieved in her mind, and ready 
to pursue any course essential for a cure. As she went 
out of the door she turned, and Sally's face smiled at me. 
" Rubbish," said Sally, and ran off laughing. 

And it waa "rubbish," in one sense. Although B IV 
spoke the truth, she was not the Real Miss Beauchamp 
after all ; neither was B I. 



"TTTTTICHEVER was the real self, B I or B IV, the other 
Y V was a dissociated group of conscious states, and the 
memories lost to one were not destroyed, only dissociated ; 
they reappeared when the proper personality awakened. 
But this knowledge in no way solved the problem. There 
was nothing for it but to make a study of the " Idiot." 
This study was continued over a period of several months, 
during which, against every obstacle, a fact here and a fact 
there were obtained, until, a large number being accumu- 
lated, each was fitted in so far as possible in its proper place 
in the psychological puzzle. Some of these data bore upon 
the hypothesis in question, while others threw light upon 
the individuality of B IV. Sometimes a paradoxical phe- 
nomenon would be observed, like that of the remembrance 
by the Idiot of episodes in the life of B I which seemed 
to controvert the apparently esteiblished amnesia. Only 
later, after some weeks of observation, would the explana- 
tion of the paradox be discovered in phenomena purposely 
concealed from me. This study, indeed, had been going 
on for some weeks before the secret of the Providence I 
catastrophe was wrung out of the personalities, though the 
probability of some such occurrence had been suggested 
by the hypothesis itself. 

Before these biographical details were known, the ex- 
tent of B IV's memory, one of the most important ques- 
tions to be solved, had already been determined. 

This determination of memory may seem easy enough, 
but the inquiry was hampered, as already pointed out, by 


two circumstances : first, I V's claim that she remembered 
everything; and second, the fact that she did get at certain 
isolated incidents in B I's career, a fact which was paradox- 
ical, at least, and seemed to substantiate her claim. These 
latter phenomena, which proved in fact to be phenomena of 
abstraction, became a very interesting subject of study. 

As to the first, it led to the tiresome sparring at every 
interview, and brought out the curious fact that, during 
the early months at least of her career, she was not wholly 
conscious of the gaps in the continuity of her memory cor- 
responding to those times when B I and Sally were on the 
stage. One event seemed to slide into the next without 
regard to the interval of oblivion which really existed for 
times when she changed to one of the others. Still, this 
in no way exonerates her from the persistent, unyielding 
determination, like a defeated political candidate, to admit 
nothing and claim everything. Every interview was begun 
in this way. It was only by convicting her out of her 
own mouth of deliberate fibbing that, staggered by the 
evidence, she would break down, and confess the ignorance 
she exhibited. Then she would acquiesce and become 
obedient — until the next interview. 

For instance : Sally or Miss Beauchamp, while convers- 
ing would change to the Idiot, who at once would be put 
through a rigid examination as to the events of the pre- 
vious half-hour or so. You could almost see lier mind 
working, as she first parried the questions, then fished, then 
guessed and inferred, all the time being led on to put her- 
self deeper in the mire. Finally, when well in, she would 
be told the real facts, which, as they had occurred under 
my own eye, she saw there was no use in denying. Thus 
she always had to be beaten to a finish before she could 
be controlled.^ 

* In farther corroboration of this ignorance were her actions, which were 
in entire accordance therewith. She was constantly getting herself into 


The sciuppy, fragmentary, and apparently paradoxical 
memory of the life of B I which she manifested was at first 
puzzling, particularly as it was difficult to determine how 
extensive this memory was. A study of these pamdoxi- 
cal bits of memory showed that they could be divided 
into three classes of psychical phenomena, which are 
of importance not only in solving the riddle of Miss 
Beauchamp, but in understanding the problem of multiple 
personality : 

(1) those which were a spontaneous synthesizing with 
her own personal self of isolated fragmentary memory pic- 
tures belonging to B I ; (2) those which were phenomena 
of abstraction; (3) those which were artificially induced 
visions, — so-called " crystal visions." 

These three classes differ from one another not so much 
in principle as in detail and process. 

The first class comprised memory flashes which were 
perfectly spontaneous, uninfluenced by any volitional effort 
of her own. They were the emerging into her mind of 
isolated memory images, such as a name, a face, or a place, 
which seemed to come from out of nowhere, without any 
connection with anything else. These did not bring with 
them any extended associations and were unimportant so 
far as affording definite aid in adapting herself to her envi- 
ronment went. Finding herself speaking with an apparent 
stranger, for instance, the correct name of this person 
would flash into her mind, or the face of an apparent 
stranger in a street-car would suddenly become familiar, 
but there was nothing more extensive than this. Of this 
character was the recollection (?) and mention of my name 
on the evening of her first appearance, June 7. As she 
afterwards explained, the name came into her mind, but it 

trouble, doing things entirely ag<ainst her own interests, and, like B I, allow- 
ing herself to be the victim of Sally, — all in consequence of her ignorance of 
her other life. 


might just as well have been Smith, Brown, or Robinson, 
for all that it conveyed to her.^ (Appendix D.) 

The second class of memory phenomena was due to an 
artifice which she secretly employed. It consisted in " fix- 
ing her mind," as she called it ; or, more technically, using 
the process of abstraction in the same way that it is used 
for experimental purposes to get at subconscious ideas. A 
specific instance will give an idea of the way she employed 
this method and the results obtained : 

On one occasion (October 20), to test the extent of her 
memory for the past, she was asked if she could remember 
the first time I saw her. I supposed that she would men- 
tion the incident of the previous June 7, the day of her 
first appearance. To my surprise, she described with 
accuracy the day when Miss Beauchamp, while a student 
in College, for the first time appeared for a profes- 
sional consultation, a year and a half before. She stated 
the various ailments of which Miss Beauchamp had com- 
plained, and the details of the prescriptions and directions 
given her, and even described my clothes. 

" How long ago was that ? " 

" It was four or five years ago — I don't remamber 
exactly." Tries hard to remember. (Note the inability to 
measure the time.) 

" Through whom did you come to see me ? " 

"Through Miss D. — Mrs. X. — she wasn't Mrs. X. 
then — Miss D." (Correct.) 

Similarly, B IV described the New Haven escapade — at 
least, as much of it as belonged to B I and herself, but 
nothing of Sally's part. At first, her memory was very 
hazy, but by taking her through each step in succession, and 
by allowing her to think hard she recalled the events. On 
a previous occasion, before she used her " mind-fixing " 

» Cliapter XI, p. 172. 


process, she could not recall this adventure. This memory, 
in contrast with her amnesia, seemed paradoxical. 

Here was evidence of quite an extensive memory of the 
life of B I, showing apparently that the division of person- 
alities was not as complete as previous observations had 
seemed to indicate. At the time, the contradictory evi- 
dence was puzzling. Later, she confessed the trick. When 
she appeared to the onlooker to be in deep thought she 
was, in reality, in a condition of abstraction. 

She now demonstrates the device in my presence. She 
puts herself into a condition of mental abstraction, appear- 
ing partly oblivious of her surroundings, like a person in 
deep concentration of thought. She looks straight before 
her, fixedly, in the distance. She sees me, dressed as I was 
then, hears my voice and is able to reproduce the whole 
scene more accurately than she could possibly do by simple 
memory. While abstracted, she fails to hear when spoken to. 

Later, I frequently caught her trying to use this trick. 
When prevented from falling into the condition of ab- 
straction she failed to remember. 

The third class of memory phenomena, that of visions, 
was similar in every way to the crystal visions which had 
been experimentally induced in Miss Beauchamp. 

In the case of B IV, we know that the amnesia was not 
absolute, because the lost memories were retained in the 
mental life of B I. But suppose that B I had not reap- 
peared after B I V's advent — should we have been justified 
in concluding that the memory of the previous six years 
had been obliterated for good? This phenomenon would 
have proven that the memories of B I's life were only dis- 
sociated, and that by a proper device they might be resyn- 
thesized. In principle, the amnesia of B IV and B I 
resembles in every way the hysterical anesthesia which 
has already been discussed, only that the amnesia involv- 
ing large groups of memory experiences is more complex. 


Some observations made by Dr. Boris Sidis and myself 

on the subject M 1,^ already mentioned, may be cited 

in evidence of dissociation being the basis of hysterical 

amnesia. M 1 was put artificially into a state in which 

he lost all memory of the experiences gained during the pre- 
vious five years, including his knowledge of the English 
language. His memories were only those which he pos- 
sessed five years previously, while he was Uving in his home 
in Russia. He therefore believed himself to be sixteen 
years old, and to be living in his native town. He under- 
stood and spoke only his native dialect, Russo-German. 

This state in every way resembled one which B IV spon- 
taneously entered on several occasions (Chapter XXVI, B 
IV b) when she thought she was living seven or eight 
years before in Providence, in fact was living in the hos- 
pital. Her memories were limited to that period. Now 
to show that in the case of M 1 the memory of the En- 
glish language was not lost, but only dissociated from the 
personal consciousness of the time being, and that it could 
be tapped and made to manifest itself, he was engaged in 
conversation in his native tongue by Dr. Sidis. While he 
was thus conversing, I stepped behind him and whispered 
in his ear in English that he should raise his right hand. 
At once his right hand was raised. Similarly he was asked 
in English where he was now living. In the midst of a 
German sentence, he interpolated the answer " Boston." 
Although his personal consciousness did not understand 
the words addressed in English, the dissociated conscious 
states responded. 

Again Miss Beauchamp falls into a state of extreme dis- 
integration (on one occasion as an after effect of etheriza- 
tion, and on another from causes not necessary to mention 
now). She does not recognize me or her suiToundings, nor 
know her own name. She does not know the day of the 

1 Boston Medical and Surgical Journal, June 23, 1904. 


week, and little or nothing about herself. She is in a de- 
lirious state, showing some temper when restrained, and 
keeps repeating a stereotyped phrase over and over again 
in a most tiresome way, " Let me go," " Let me go." Eveiy 
question brings out only this response. I whisper in her 
ear that she is to answer my questions by raising her right 
hand for "yes" and her left hand for "no." She is then 
asked in a whisper the day of the week, the days being 
slowly recited to her. When the correct day, Thursday, 
is mentioned, the right hand is raised, while the left is 
raised when the other days are mentioned, this in the midst 
of the eternal repetition of her tiresome phrase. In this 
way she signals she does not want to go, recognizes my 
name and the place where she is, and gives much other 
information, showing the momentary presence of a dissoci- 
ated sane consciousness coexisting with the poor dissociated 
one. In the same way she answers by speech. The deli- 
rious consciousness was unaware of the whispered ques- 
tions and of the subconscious sane replies. The second 
consciousness, as was afterwards shown, was not Sally. 
Such observations show the character of this kind of am- 
nesia, but in these experiments no attempts were made at 
synthesizing the disintegrated fragments of consciousness. 

These phenomena confirm what Janet has so strongly 
insisted upon as the characteristic of hysterical amnesia ; 
namely, that from one point of view it is not amnesia at all, 
that the lost memories are conserved, but so dissociated from 
the personal consciousness that they cannot be recalled. 
They can, however, be awakened as automatic phenomena. 

The classical case of Mme. D. is a good illustration of 
extensive amnesia of this kind in an otherwise intelligent 
mind. It was studied by Charcot,^ and later by Souques,^ 
and Janet.^ On August 28, 1891, the poor woman received 

1 Revue de Mcdecine, February, 1892. * Revue de Medecine, May, 1892. 
8 Mental State of Hystericals, p. 90. 


a terrible mental shock. She was working in her house 
when suddenly a strange man entered and roughly called 
out to her, " Your husband is dead. They are bringing 
him home. Prepare a bed, Madame D." The news was 
false, but the neighbors assembled and there was much 
emotional excitement. In the midst of it one of the 
women, seeing the husband approaching in the distance, 
was unfortunate enough to cry out, " There he is ! " On 
hearing these words, Mme. D., believing that her hus- 
band was being brought home dead, fell into a hysterical 
attack, characterized by delirium and convulsions. This 
attack lasted three days. At the end of that time Madame 
D. came to herself, but then it was found that a curious 
thing had happened. She had forgotten everything that 
had occurred since July 14, six weeks previous to the 
shock, — a retrograde amnesia. But this was not all. She 
continued to forget everything that happened, everything 
she experienced, as fast as it occurred, hour by hour and 
minute by minute. (This is called continuous amnesia.) 
She lived her life as usual, but under the restrictions of 
this amnesia, which lasted nine months, until May, 1892. 
Among other experiences she was bitten by a mad dog, and 
was taken to Paris to the Pasteur Institute to be immun- 
ized. Her husband, taking advantage of her being in Paris, 
brought her to Charcot, at the Salpetriere, November 23. 
She had no recollection whatever of anything that had 
taken place subsequent to July 14. For everything pre- 
vious to that date her memory was good. She remembered 
nothing of the accident that caused her troubles, nothing of 
being bitten by the dog, of the journey to Paris, or of being 
treated at the Pasteur Institute. Later, after having been 
some time at the hospital, she could not remember, at any 
particular moment, where she was, or recall the names of 
those whom she daily met. Charcot was the sole exception. 
She had seen his portrait before July 14, and remembered 
his face. (Appendix E.) 


Now it was easy to show that these lost memories were 
only dissociated, and not absolutely effaced. In the first 
place the patient was heard to talk in her sleep ; that is, 
she dreamed about events which had occurred during the 
periods of the retrograde and anterograde amnesia. " That 
dirty dog," for instance, she said, " he has bitten me and 
torn my dress." In the second place, when hypnotized 
she recalled all the forgotten events and related them with 
exactness. She recounted the scene of August 28, the 
bite of the dog, her arrival in Paris, her inoculation against 
rabies, her visits in Paris, her entrance in the Salpetriere, 
etc., with striking care and accuracy. 

It thus was shown that in hypnosis the memories of past 
experiences were associated among themselves, systema- 
tized, and preserved, as if in the memory of a second per- 
sonaUty. Janet, experimenting still further on the same 
subject, showed that the lost memories could be recovered 
in the waking state by the process of abstraction and auto- 
matic writing. The memorial images, therefore, were not 
obliterated but were merely dissociated from the wak- 
ing personality. It required only a device to awaken 
the systematized memories, dissociated from the personal 

But the facts were something more than this. It was 
not alone that by an artifice Mme. D. was made to recall 
what she had forgotten. We do this in a different way 
every day of our lives. It is rather that at a time when 
the subject is unable to remember anything of a certain 
period, at this same time while in another state, she pos- 
sesses completely the lost memories, and loses them again 
when she goes back to the waking state. With the alter- 
nating states there is an alternation of memory and amnesia, 
but during amnesia the memories almost seem to be wait- 
ing, as it were, to be recalled by the proper signal or 


The case of Mr. Hanna, studied by Sidis and Goodhart,* 
also illustrates this principle. Mr. Hanna, it will be re- 
membered, in consequence of a slight accident, suddenly, 
like Mary Reynolds, lost all recollection of his previous 
life. When he came to himself he could remember nothing 
that he had learned. He could not understand or speak 
the English language. The names of objects, and even their 
uses, were unknown to him. He did not know the mean- 
ing of an apple, or a pencil, or anything else. Even spatial 
relations were not recognized. The objective world seemed 
flat, and without perapective. In short, as far as his mem- 
ory went, his mind was that of an infant ; but it was that 
of an adult in its capacity to think, to reason, and to form 
judgments. It became necessary to begin his education 
over again, as with a child, teaching him to speak, to un- 
derstand, to write, and to recognize objects and their 

By the process of abstraction — for which Sidis coins the 
word hypnoidization — vivid memory-pictures were awak- 
ened. Hanna was made to close his eyes, to " listen with 
all possible effort and attention to the reading of the 
Hebrew " scriptures, or anything else. While his atten- 
tion is thus distracted "events, names of persons, of 
places, sentences, phrases, whole paragraphs of books totally 
lapsed from memory, and in languages the very words of 
which sounded bizarre to his ears and the meaning of 
which was to him inscrutable — all that flashed lightning- 
like on the patient's mind. So successful was this method, 
that on one occasion the patient was frightened by the 
flood of memories that rose suddenly from the obscure sub- 
conscious regions, deluged his mind, and were expressed 
aloud, only to be forgotten the next moment. To the 

* Multiple Personality (D. Appleton & Co., 1905); p. 95 et seq. See also 
"The Psychology of Snggestiou," by Boris Sidi.s, 1898. 


patient himself it appeared as if another being took posses- 
- sion of his tongue." ^ As with B IV, sometimes these 
memories, instead of being complex pictures, were scrappy, 
— mere flashes in the pan.^ 

The " mind-fixing " remembrances of B IV have their 
counterpart in these and similar observations. The condi- 
tion of abstraction into which B IV put herself was one 
of semi-hypnosis, — one in which experimentation, in her 
case as well as in Mr. Hanna's, has shown it is easy for 
sensory automatisms, that is, visual and auditory repre- 
sentations, or memorial pictures of past experiences, to 
arise. These memory-pictures were the same in principle 
as those which flashed into B IV's consciousness when she 
" fixed her mind," and the method was the same. There 
was this difference : with Hanna these revived experiences 
were never recognized as in any way familiar; in B IV's 
case the synthesis of memory with the personal conscious- 
ness was more complete, for the visualized and other 
memories were recognized as her own experiences and 
remembered as her own. 

In the case of B IV the spontaneous "scrappy" mem- 
ories were of the same nature, though they did not occur 
in states of abstraction, but more closely resembled ordinary 
but partial memory. They were the incomplete synthe- 
sizing of the dissociated memories belonging to state B I. 
The difficulty in determining all this was due to the per- 
sistent concealment of the facts by B IV. 

Associated with this class of memory flashes there was 

often experienced another phenomenon which was liable to 

be the cause of embarrassment. The recognition of this 

• phenomenon is of practical importance as it is not rarely 

observed in the neurasthenic psychoses. It was the sudden 

^ The Psychology of Suggestion, Boris Sidis ; p. 224. 
2 Multiple Personality, p. 143. 


awakening of an apparently paradoxical emotion in connec- 
tion with a strange person or place, or in consequence of a 
reference by some one to an apparently unknown event. 
Or, the emotion might arise in connection with a memory 
flash, but in neither case was there to B IV any account- 
able reason for the emotion. It can be imagined that the 
experiences were disagreeable enough. To find yourself 
suddenly, without rhyme or reason, feeling an intense emo- 
tion in connection with something or other which you 
scarcely remember to have seen or heard of before is 
annoying, at least. 

The explanation was not difficult. These experiences 
were plainly emotional automatisms, and, as such, associa- 
tion phenomena connected with experiences in the life of 
B I. They belonged to a class of phenomena which I have 
termed association neuroses.^ They differed essentially from 
the subconscious fears described in Chapter VIII. Those 
emotions belonged to ideas which were subconscious, and 
invaded the waking consciousness without the memories to 
which they were attached. But B I's- mental life was not 
subconscious in respect to B IV. It was dissociated, for- 
gotten, but not subconscious. These paradoxical emotions 
were not, then, excited by subconscious memories, but by 
perceptions (of persons, places, etc.) which were in the pri- 
mary consciousness. The memories associated with these 
perceptions belonged entirely nevertheless to B I's con- 
sciousness and therefore were forgotten ; nevertheless the 
visual, auditory, and other images of a person or a place, 
or whatever it might be, aroused in B IV, in spite of her 
amnesia, the emotions which had been previously associated 
by B I with these images. The visual image of anything 
with which any emotion had been associated in B I re- 

1 " Association Nenroses," Jonm. of Nervons and Mental Diseases, May, 
1891. "Three Cases of Association Neuroses," John E. Donley, M. D. 
Boston Med. and Sorg. Jonrn., Nov. 3, 1904. 


excited in B IV that emotion, although the associated expe- 
rience had belonged to B I. 

The same thing in principle one frequently observes as a 
neurosis in so-called neurasthenics. Mrs. W., for instance, 
while passing a certain house, suddenly experienced an emo- 
tional symptom-complex (palpitation, feeling of suffocation, 
general exhaustion, etc.). She had not noticed the neigh- 
borhood and did not consciously recognize the house, which 
resembles in design the neighboring houses in the same 
block. Startled by her symptoms, she looked up, half in 
search of a cause, and then for the first time recognized the 
house she had just passed as a private hospital where three 
years before she had had a very harrowing experience con- 
nected with her child's illness. Associations of the hospital 
are so unpleasantly strong that she cannot bring herself 
even to engage a nurse connected with it. This experience 
is similar to numerous others of the same kind which Mrs. 
W. has had and in which the same symptoms have been ex- 
cited by association of ideas. The explanation of this par- 
ticular experience which first suggests itself is that Mrs. W. 
subconsciously recognized the hospital as she was passing, 
and that the subconscious unpleasant memories aroused the 
symptoms. But a careful examination in hypnosis failed 
to show any subconscious recognition or any perceptions 
different from those of the waking consciousness. We 
are forced to conclude that the peripheral visual images of 
the house alone by pure association aroused the emotional 
symptom complex, as an automatism. 

Aside from the interest of unravelling the mysteries of 
a particular case, the psychological importance of these 
isolated memory-pictures lies in the light they throw upon 
the problem of multiple personalities. They indicate the 
purely dissociative character of the amnesia. In the par- 
ticular case of Miss Beauchamp, we know that when B IV 
was present, the memories of B I were not effaced, for B 


I alternated with B IV, and on the former's reappearance 
the memories of that personality's life were regained, and 
B IV's experiences in turn dissociated. 

But suppose, as I have said above, the case had not 
come under observation until after the appearance of B IV 
on the night of June 7, and that she had not again re- 
verted to Miss Beauchamp (B I). It might then have been 
hastily concluded that B IV's amnesia for the preceding 
six years showed that the memory for this period had been 
absolutely effaced.^ The phenomena we have been de- 
scribing would have shown that such was not the case, but 
that they were only dissociated from a particular personal 
consciousness, and for some unknown reason a complete 
synthesis could not be made. 

In thus explaining these memory phenomena Sally has 
been left out of account. There never has been any evi- 
dence that Sally's memories were the source of B IV's 
" mind-fixing " or " scrappy " memories. If this had been 
the case, it is inconceivable that the regained memories 
should not have included some of Sally's own experiences 
as well as those of B I. This was never the case. B IV 
never recalled any facts by these processes other than those 
of B I's life, never one of Sally's. This is a curious and 
interesting fact. The process of abstraction failed to re- 
vive any memories pertaining to Sally's existence. With 
true visions it was different. By this method she occa- 
sionally got at Sally's experiences. For instance, she once 
saw herself (in a vision) as Sally driving in a carriage with 
a friend. The reason for this difference is not entirely 
clear, but the facts corresponded with certain results 
obtained by myself experimentally. 

The " mind-fixing " phenomena were largely the result 
of memorizing processes. The pictures which she called 

1 Assoming also there was no third personality (Sally), as is often the 


up were vivid, to be sure, as in visions, — more vivid than 
occurs in ordinary memory, but the visualized experiences 
were remembered as experiences of her own. On the other 
hand, the visions were pure automatisms, excrescences in her 
mind, without conscious association with the other experi- 
ences of the life which they pictured. When seeing a vision 
she did not recognize the pictorial experiences as her own, 
even though it was of B I's life; there was no sense 
of memory connected with it. 

Now it was found experimentally easy to amalgamate by 
suggestion the dissociated experiences of B I with those 
of B IV so that they were remembered, but impossible to 
amalgamate Sally's with either. These latter could ex- 
perimentally only be awakened as sensory automatisms (for 
example, vision of Sally smoking cigarettes). CoiTespond- 
ing therefore to these results, B IV could by " mind fixing " 
synthesize with herself some of B I's experiences, but the 
same method failed to do this with those of Sally. She 
could get from Sally's life only a vision, which still remained 
without conscious relation to any part of her life.* 

1 For an interesting theory of hallucinations, see " An Inquiry into the 
Nature of Hallucinations," by Boris Sidis, Psychological Review, Vol. XI. 
No. I, January, 1904. 



November, 1899 

VERY little has been said since Sally's arrival about 
B II, and little more than a reference has been made 
to the fact that the Idiot could be hypnotized, and that 
this was habitually done for therapeutic purposes. As to 
B II, the fact is, little had been seen of her since Sally's 
advent. Sally, whether with premeditation or not, almost 
always came in her place when B I was hypnotized, and 
being the most interesting personality, and the one who 
tfcad to be reckoned with, I got into the way of calling for 
this young woman. Still, a state of hypnosis which was 
supposed to be the original B II was occasionally obtained. 
It was never encouraged to develop any spontaneity, but 
was made to remain with the eyes closed, answering ques- 
tions, and receiving therapeutic suggestions. Under the 
circumstances there was no reason to suspect that it was 
not the original B II. 

When B IV was hypnotized she went into deep hypnosis. 
A very extraordinary change came over her. When, in 
the original observation, B I was changed to B II the lat- 
ter retained all the fundamental characteristics of B I. 
When B IV was h3rpnotized her character became com- 
pletely metamorphosed : no longer hostile and reticent, but 
friendly and frank, she ceased to prevaricate, and made no 
effort to conceal her thoughts or the facts of her life. She 
answered questions freely and openly, frankly confessing 
her ignorance as B IV and the falseness of her pretences. 


She stated, for instance, that what she had said a moment 
before as B IV was not true, and that as B IV she had no 
knowledge whatever of what had occurred in the room 
when B I and Sally were present. She was docile and 
obedient, accepting suggestions without remonstrance. 
For purposes of convenience this state was labelled B VI. ^ 
On waking B IV had complete amnesia for this state. Of 
course the same was true of B I. 

Beyond this, B VI had not been particularly studied at 
this time, being looked upon as a simple hypnotic state. 
A discovery was soon to be made which was not only 
psychologically instructive, but was to give an entirely new 
aspect to the problem. 

On November 5, 1899, B VI was present for awhile; 
then, changing to Sally, the latter was hypnotized and 
transformed in turn to B I. B I was now put into hypno- 
sis, and became B II, — the original B II, as was supposed. 

I was in the act of giving B II some suggestions abt t 
sleeping, when suddenly Sally bounced out and exclaimed 
excitedly, "Oh, Dr. Prince, I came to tell you that I 
think the Idiot hypnotized is the same person as B I hyp- 
notized, for I know the Idiofs thoughts when she is asleep 
just as I do B Ts then. I may be wrong, but I think so." 

We talked it over, and I pointed out to Sally that if her 
discovery should turn out to be true, then the memory of 
B II must be the same as that of B VI, and vice versa. 
As B II knew all about B I, and B VI knew all about 
B IV, then this combined hypnotic self must know all 
about both B I and B IV. It was agreed that observa- 
tions should be made to test the theory, and then Sally 
"folded herself up," and disappeared to watch the game. 
Sally's discovery was most exciting. Even Sally, the 
hater of psychology, caught the contagion of the chase 
for the moment. If it was true we might at last have a 

* B V was Sally hypnotized. 


clue to the solution of the mystery; a solution, that is, 
which would explain the relationship of the different per- 
sonalities and disclose the real self. B VI would be more 
than simply B IV in hypnosis. Her memory would be as 
complete as that of both the other personalities, B I and 
B IV, put together, a synthesis of the two; and as her char- 
acter manifestly differed (for the better, thank Heaven!) 
from that of B IV, she might he another personality (in 
hypnosis') , perhaps the real one we had been seeking. In this 
personality, too, all the experiences of the two others would 
be already organized. It was plain, if the discovery should 
be verified, that an alternative theory offered itself in place 
of the one that made B IV the real self. 

The import of the discovery occurred entirely indepen- 
dently to Sally, for the next day she wrote the following 
letter setting forth the new theoiy as her own. Though 
psychologically crude, it expresses quite clearly some of the 
facts we expected to prove. It will be noticed that, rightly 
or wrongly, Sally wobbles, abandoning her previous theory 
that B IV is the real self, and harks back to her old 
insistence that the " Idiot " is not a real person. 

" ' Tis the voice of the lobster.* 

[Nor. 6, 1899.] 
" Start with Miss B. and the 'Idiot,' and call them number one 
and number two. Hypnotized each becomes number threcy^ and 
this number three remembers everything concerning both one and 
two. Then can't one call number three the real, complete Miss 
B. ? But one is n't sure whether this number three on being 
awakened will become number one or two. Putting it that way 
is confusing. It is simpler if you say that one can't be sure 
whether number three on being awakened will or will not remem- 
ber all that has happened since that shock in ' Providence.' If 
she does remember, she becomes number one^ if she does n't then 
she 's number two. But I still think there is n't a number two 

1 Called II in this accoant. 


[Idiot] properly speaking — not a real person — distinct from 
number one. For number two only appears when certain old 
memories are recalled. She is like number one in a rattled and 
irresponsible condition, does remember number one's life in 
some way other than by getting it through visions, remembers 
it at least as well as she does her own. Also number one 
knows much of number iwo, which is one reason she thinks 
she loses so much less time than she really does. How does 
she know it? How does number two get her scrappy informa- 
tion unless from three where they (one and two, that is) become 
three f I dare say my reasoning seems very absurd to you. 
It does to me rather, for I don't seem to have expressed it 
clearly as it is in my mind. I am too squeezed — worse than 
ever before in my short existence. Amen. S. B. 49." 

Sally's language implies that Miss Beauchamp and the 
Idiot had more knowledge of each other than they really 
had; more than Sally intended to suggest, for she did not 
know the Idiot's thoughts. This knowledge was, as we 
have seen, and as Sally says, only "scrappy," welling up 
into consciousness from apparently nowhere. This was 
further demonstrated by the fact that this knowledge on 
the part of one of the personalities did not follow imme- 
diately the events of the other's life, but came only after 
long intervals, rising as out of a mist. At most, it was 
indeed "scrappy," with great blanks when the cleavage 
of memory was complete; as, for example, when Miss 
Beauchamp was "gone " for the month of August she lost 
this amount of time completely out of her life, without a 
vestige of memory of it at the time of her return. Another 
instance is contained in Miss Beauchamp' s letter of Sep- 
tember 24, in which she savs : 

" There is little I can tell you, for I have lost most of the 
time since the evening of the twelfth [12 days], only coming 
to myself for a few hours on Friday last, and again this 


Sally more correctly expressed the facts of memory the 
next day in a second statement of the theory, which may 
be epitomized as follows, the nomenclature being that used 
in this account: 

Let X = the real original Miss Beauchamp. Then X is B II 
or B VI, who are one and the same. 

X wakes and becomes B I or B IV, but B III cannot tell 
which will come to the front. 

Both B I and B IV can get at sorne of the experiences of 
each other, but B III does not know to what extent each can 
do this. 

B I tends to get rattled and pass into B IV when incidents 
occur which tend to make her mind dwell on a certain " cause 
of perturbation." 

My theory that B II (B VI) might be the Real- Miss 
Beauchamp was subject to one difficulty. By the theory, 
if we hypnotize B I and B IV they become synthesized 
to the real self in hypnosis. If this self be waked up it 
ought to remain X ; yet, in fact, on waking B II becomes, 
not X, but dissociated into either B I or B IV again. Why 
should not B II, if she is the real self, remain synthesized 
and become X on being awakened? As we shall see, this 
has great significance. 

As has been said, Sally's discovery of the identity of 
B II and B VI, if verified, was of the utmost value. It 
might prove to be the long sought for key to the riddle ; 
or, at any rate, it would make intelligible several appar- 
ently paradoxical phenomena, and might lead to the dis- 
covery of the real self. All previous hypotheses were in 
doubt. Not only B I but B IV might have to go, to give 
way to a stranger whom we had never seen, but who in 
hypnotic sleep might be B II (B VI). What sort of a 
person would this prove to be ? 

The next day, November 8, an opportunity was offered 
to test the theory of the identity of B VI and B II. 


B IV was hypnotized and changed to the hypnotic self, 
B VI. Was this self identical with B II ? That was the 
point to be tested. She was questioned on the conver- 
sation between myself and B IV five minutes earlier, and 
about B IV's movements in the room. She knew all 
this, and repeated the conversation word for word. 

The next test was for her knowledge of B I. The 
following was selected: Miss Beauchamp had been much 
distressed about some letters in her own handwriting which 
she had seen at a previous interview, lying on my table. 
She had assumed that they were written by Sally, who, 
she believed, had probably said a lot of "mad things," and 
she wanted the letters back. Worrying over this had 
caused her sleepless nights. B IV had had no opportunity 
to see these letters. There were three of them, — either in 
envelopes or folded so that they could not be read : one 
from B I herself, one from B IV, and one from Sally. 

The hypnotized B IV was asked to repeat the substance 
of these letters. She repeated accurately the contents of 
that from B I as well as that from B IV, but she had not 
the slightest knowledge of the contents of Sally's. She 
further remembered, as B 7, seeing Sally's letter on the 
table, and described its appearance; it was easily distin- 
guished from the other two by being written on foolscap. 
It must be kept in mind — though it is hardly necessary 
to give the details here of the demonstration — that B I 
awake did not know B IV's letter, nor did B IV awake 
know B Fs letter. 

Testing further the hypnotic self of B IV for knowledge 
of B I, it was found that she knew all that part of the 
hospital episode of 1893 for which the memory of B IV 
awake was blank, but which B I knew; that is, what 
occurred after she left the ward. She described with 
accuracy everything that had taken place, just as B I and 
Sally had described it. This self also described accurately 


the visions which B IV had had. In the same way a large 
number of events in the lives of B I and B IV were gone 
over and it was found that she remembered accurately the 
lives of both. Likewise, when B I was put into hypnosis 
the resulting hypnotic self, B II, knew all about her life as 
B IV as well as her life as B I. 

The memories of B II were the same as those of B VI. 

So, then, Sally was right in saying that so far as memory 
went B VI and B II were the same person; or, putting it 
in other words, that B I and B IV when hypnotized be- 
came the same person. All future experiences confirmed 
this result. The hypnotic self always had a complete 
knowledge of both personalities, — of their actions and 

It remained to compare the characters of B II and B VI 
as distinguished from their memories. Perhaps it may be 
as well to anticipate here by saying that in everything 
that goes to make up character — habits of thought, tem- 
perament, aspirations, wishes, tastes, mode of reaction to 
environment — they were one and the same personality. 
Consequently from this time on, this hypnotic self was 
always designated as B II, and there was no longer a 
B VI. 

So B II had now become a very important factor in the 
problem. In contrast with B II 's complete knowledge of 
Miss Beauchamp and the Idiot, was the complete ignorance 
which she exhibited of Sally. Never, on any occasion, at 
any time since she has been under observation, has B II 
had the faintest glimpse into her life as Sally. Sally's life 
is a sealed book to her. 

Pursuing now the method which had already been prac- 
tised with gratifying results — that of interrogating each 
self in regard to its own psychical life and its relations to 
the other selves — some interesting and corroborative in- 
formation was obtained from B II. She considered, ^he 


said, the personalities called B I and B IV the same as 
herself, only that when awake as B IV she (B II) becomes 
"confused," and then says all sorts of "mad things" and 
fibs. Why she fibs she does not know, but she is not her- 
self then and cannot help it. She does not consider that 
she (B II) " loses time " when confused : when she " loses 
time " it is different. (By this she refers to the periods of 
Sally's existence.) For instance, to-day she "lost time" 
only from half-past twelve to half-past one, and from half- 
past two to six o'clock, for she has no knowledge of these 
hours. (From 2.30 to 6 o'clock Sally was with me.) She 
does not consider it " losing time " during the other periods 
when she is B I or B IV. The logical attitude of B II in 
this analysis of herself is self-evident. As she knew 
everything she did and thought as B I and as B IV, there 
could be no oblivion for her during those periods, and 
she could only regard herself as changing in character. 
Neither did she speak of B I or B IV as different persons, 
as Sally does. She did not call either "She," but used 
the words " myself " and " I " for each personality, as 
well as for herself as she was at the moment asleep: 
"/ became confused." "/don't know why J fib." Simi- 
larly, at later interviews, when to test the personality I 
used to ask who she was, she would reply, " I am myself. " 

"Where is B I?" 


"Where is B IV?" 

"I am B IV." 

On this occasion, in reply to questions, she went on to 
say that she (meaning B I) had changed in character since 
the hospital time; but she found difficulty in describing 
how, except that she had grown morbid and nervous and 
was not herself (Miss Beauchamp). She appealed for help, 
as she did many a time afterward, begging me pathetically 
to wake her up and make her herself, — make her so that 



she would remember everything and not have gaps in her 
memory; not prevaricate and not tell fibs (B IV). Most 
piteously she pleaded that this should be done ; that she ^ 
should be made herself. She seemed to mind Sally's 
coming most, for she knew nothing of what was done at 
such times. From the after evidences, from the letters to 
herself and others, from the devilish humiliations she was 
forced to undergo, the hundred and one torments she 
endured, she knew that she had been acting a part, and 
living a life that belied her character and was mortifying 
to her pride. Her conduct as B IV, when, as it seemed to 
her, she was not herself, almost equally troubled her. 

The personal testimony of B II, then, clearly corrobo- 
rated that derived from experimental tests and other obser- 
vations, and showed that B II and B VI were the same 
person. This interview terminated with a scene which 
was full of dramatic effect: 

The discovery pointed to a way to synthesize all the 
memories of Miss Beaucharap and B IV, and to combine 
them in one person, which after all was one of the main 
objects sought. If B II could be waked and be made 
to retain in the waking state everything that she knew 
of B I and IV, the resulting personality, whether B I, 
B IV, or the real self, would at least be a great improve- 
ment over anything we had had. If B IV was not the^ 
real self there was no object in keeping her. According 
to the new hypothesis B II, hitherto like Cinderella neg- 
lected and passed by, might be the very self for whom 
we had been hunting. Before it could be determined 
further experiments had to be undertaken, but for the 
present it seemed worth while seeing what would happen 
if B II was awakened, her eyes opened, and made by 
suggestion to retain her present memories. A preliminary 
suggestion was given as follows: 

"When you awake, you will know everything. You 


will be yourself as you were before ' Providence.' You 
will remember everything." 

While saying this I was startled to hear the words, 
uttered in a deep, angry tone, "She sha'n't know my ^ 
thoughts." Her face had been that of complete placidit}'. I 
For a second the features became ruffled with anger, 
and then subsided again into their former calm. After 
the first surprise, I recognized Sally's interference. B II 
of course did not hear her own voice. I scolded Sally 
severely, — talking to her through B II, — knowing that 
she would hear. But II, being all unconscious of what 
had happened, did not understand my real intention. My 
manner was severe, and to B II it seemed that I was up- 
braiding her who had just been pleading for life. She 
asked why I spoke in such a way. What had she done ? 
She seemed to feel it keenly. "Don't pay any attention \ 
to what I say, " I replied ; " I am speaking, not to you, but I 
to Sally, who hears." "Sally? Oh, yes," she answered; I 
"she writes me letters — " her sentence remained unfin- 
ished, and she became dumb. She could not speak a 
word, her lips were sealed and her tongue tied. Again 
I scolded Sally for interfering. The scolding had its 
effect. B II was proceeding once more to appeal for help, 
when she exclaimed: "Oh, Dr. Prince, I can't think any 
more ! I feel just as if something had taken hold of my 
brain and stopped my thinking. It is just as when that 
thing makes me see and do things I don't want to see and 
do, — as if a part of my brain were held." 

Again I scolded Sally, who yielded at last, and B II 
went on with what she was saying. She was then simply 
waked, without more ado, and the resulting personality 
was only B IV. 

It remained to determine what relation B II bore to the 
real self, which self might be X, or when in hypnosis B II 
herself. This question was postponed for future study. 


It was not long before B IV began to relapse again into 
her earlier condition of antagonism and independence. Thff" 
open-minded mood of November 1 and 3 soon came to an 
end, and, as her character gradually unfolded itself, it be- 
came evident that, however strong a personality she might 
be, the idea that she was the real and original Miss Beau- 
champ was, as Sally said, "rubbish." 

The following from B IV, written immediately after 
the interview of November 1 (Chapter XIV), when her 
trouble was explained to her, speaks for itself: 

[From B IV, Nov. 3, 1899.] " I have been thinking over 
what you said this evening, and while I appreciate your kind- 
ness, I believe it better not to trouble you with my woes, so 
long as they are only such as any one can help me out of. I 
have never known until to-day just what was wrong and, not 
daring to ask, have fancied that perhaps something dreadful — 
something horrible — had happened which people were keeping 
from me intentionally ; but if it is only something growing out 

of that summer in , a sort of dream life, why, it simplifies 

things wonderfully, for Mr. J will, I am sure, tell me every- 
thing that has happened since — all about the things done and 
those left undone — and that will save your time too, which I 
am afraid you have been giving me freely. And I shall take 
up nursing again now — the old life which I love so much — 
better than any other in the world, — as you probably know. 
I can hardly wait to see about it — I am so excited. 

'* You have been awfully good, I am sure, and I hope you 
will believe me both grateful and appreciative. I know how 
infinitely trying I am as a patient, and am afraid it has been 

hard for you sometimes. Mrs. X did not know all my 

' outs ' or she would hardly have taxed you so. I shall try if 
possible to see you before I go and thank you. You have lifted 
such a weight from my mind. 

" P. S. I am going to enclose a note in this which I have 
just received, and beg that you will tell me who the writer 
is. I cannot get her myself, — have no other letters from her, 
and yet she evidently knows me very well indeed. Unless you 


can enlighten me, I am afraid we shall not ' talk ourselves to 
death.' " 

As we went on to study B IV we found that her habits 
of thought and her conduct were as different from those 
of the original Miss Beauchamp as chalk is from cheese, 
however plausible she at times made herself appear. One 
unfortunate trait which she exhibited was that of falling 
into uncontrollable fits of anger if thwarted. This led 
frequently to the destruction of documents which, as I 
view it, were an irreparable loss. 

Sally had agreed to write the autobiography of her own 
(subconscious) life, and for this purpose used to come to 
my office during the mornings. It was impossible to take 
B IV into my confidence, because if there was one thing 
more than another to which she objected it was revealing 
her private affairs, no matter how trivial. She simply 
refused to allow it. Then again, much that Sally wrote 
was unknown to B IV, and therefore the latter would and 
did deny its truth. So Sally used to come mornings and 
write. One day B IV was found with a number of crum- 
pled sheets of Sally's manuscript in her hand. She was 
moody, angry, uncompromising. It happened that while 
writing Sally had had the ill luck to change accidentally 
to B IV, who thereupon read the autobiography. The cat 
was out of the bag. The danger of the destruction of the 
manuscript was imminent. Diplomacy proved useless, 
and the papers were carried away. There was a faint 
chance that Sally would somehow prevent the threatened 
destruction, but B IV came out on top and the work was 
destroyed. The following letter came the next day : 

[From B IV.] " My coming here mornings — however amus- 
ing it may be — is utterly out of the question. You have made 
it awfully hard for me in losing this whole week. I cannot 
afford such things, believe me. 



" P. S. I don't know what papers you wished me to leave 
for you. Those I had in my hand were only some scribbled 
sheets of my own — nothing concerning you in the least" 

The "sheets" were Sally's autobiography. It was not 
far advanced and the loss could be easily retrieved, but 
shortly afterward IV succeeded in inflicting a greater dam- 
age. Sally had begun again, and the autobiography, after 
weeks of labor, was well under way, — perhaps half done. 
Entering the room one day, I found B IV with a pile of 
torn pieces of paper in her lap, each piece about the size 
of a postage stamp, and enough pieces to fill a half -gallon 
bowl. It was the precious manuscript. Let me tell why 
it was regarded as of such importance. 

Shortly before this, on October 26 (1899), Sally had 
entered at great length into the question of her own inde- 
pendent existence, apart from that of B IV and B I. She 
insisted that she had always existed as a real and separate 
person from early childhood. By this she did not mean, 
of course, that at this period there were times when she 
was the sole or an alternating consciousness, when she 
walked about and led a life independent of the primary 
consciousness, as she does at present ; but that within, or 
alongside of. Miss Beauchamp's consciousness there has 
always existed a conscious nucleus which thought and felt 
independently of the primary consciousness, and which 
had its own memories of which Miss Beauchamp knew 

In evidence of this she recalled successive events in her 
own psychological life at different ages. She described 
her own thoughts at such times and contrasted them with 
what B I thought at the same moment. She claimed to 
remember what she, as distinct from Miss Beauchamp, 
thought at the time when she was learning to walk. Then 
B I was frightened, she said, and wanted to go back, but 
subconscious Sally was not at all frightened and wanted to 


go ahead. She described B I as having had a butterfly 
mind as contrasted with her own. She, as a small child, 
disliked the things that B I liked, and vice versa. She 
described her school life, her own feelings when B I did 
things, and the different sensations of the two selves when, 
for example, B I was punished and felt badly, while she 
herself was entirely indifferent and without remorse. 

Then, coming to a later period, she instanced the occa- 
sion (brought out in a crystal vision), when she saw J., 
who was standing behind her, crush a watch which he 
held in his hand, although this was not observed by Miss 

" I often saw things that she never saw. I saw J 

crush the watch when she didn't." 

"Did you hear it?" 

" I saw it, and heard it, too. " 

" How could you see it? You said he was behind you." 

" He was not exactly behind, but behind my shoulder. 
I may have seen it out of the corner of my eye, just as 
I see this table now out of the corner of my eye, though I 
am looking at you. " 

"Why didn't she see it?" 

"I don't know." Then, meditatively, "Why can't I 
see crystal visions ? I can't. When she sees things and 
doesn't remember them, I often can. She forgets, but I 
don't. I suppose this is because her mind is busy with one 
kind of thing, and my mind is busy with another kind." 

And so Sally went on, recalling many instances of 
double consciousness during her girlhood, but it was not 
until she got her eyes open that she had an independent 
existence. Before this, as she maintained, she could think 
separately, but could not act as an independent con- 
sciousness excepting on rare occasions when she could 
make "her" do things. With the exception of these 
occasional instances she had had very little power over 



"her" body until she "got her eyes open." (I have often 
seen Sally, co-consciously, smile through Miss Beau- 
champ's tears, so to speak, producing a most curious 
effect.) Sally harps upon the fact that getting her own 
eyes open made herself "alive," and gave an independ- 
ent existence in the sense of having sole and complete 
use of the body. In explanation of these statements she 
agreed to write an autobiography of herself, of her own 
consciousness as distinct from Miss Beauchamp's, begin- 
ning with the earliest years. 

We need not enter here into the credibility of Sally's 
statements, for, whether credible or not, from this general 
r^sumd, it will be seen how important it was that Sally 
should herself write a continuous account of her own 
mental life, contrasting it with the mental life of Miss 
Beauchamp, as Sally saw both. The reliability and value 
of such an account could be determined later. The first 
thing, whatever its value, was to get it. It was this 
precious manuscript which B IV had destroyed. 
r This vandalism, the fits of temper, the relapses from 
1 the periods of rationalism, the lack of self-control, the sug- 
\ gestibility, all indicated abnormality and strengthened the 
I belief that B IV was not, after all, the true Miss Beau- 
j champ. Indeed, everything warned us that we must still 
be on the hunt for the real self. We had got as far as 
identifying B II and B VI. Was B II the real self, after 
all? If not, who or what was the real self? If B II were 
this self there followed consequences of importance, for 
then neither B I nor B IV was real, but each was a sort 
of somnambulist. If B II were the original Miss Beau- 
champ, then it probably would be found that if the sug- 
gestion were given that, on waking, she should remain 
herself and not change to B I or B IV, ^ and then were 

* B II had been told many times to open her eyes and awake — this was 
the customary way of awaking her — bat always on awaking she changed to 


simply told to open her eyes, she would awake with all 
her faculties, complete and whole, — the original Miss 
Beauchamp as she was before being overwhelmed by the 
various psychical accidents that had befallen her. This 
experiment had been tried, tentatively, on November 8, 
but was balked by Sally. ^ It did not seem wise to rashly 
persist until it was positively determined that B II was the 
real self ; for if B II should get her eyes open and obtain 
an independent existence, and then prove after all not to 
be the right person, there would be a pretty " howdy-do. " j 
We should have four personalities instead of three to~' 
take care of, and we had our hands quite full enough 
already. It remained then to study B II as well as 

After all Sally's theorizing the following came as an 
anti-climax : 

[Letter of Nov. 27, 1899, from Sally.] " Don't reckon posi- 
tively on my coming Tuesday morniog, and don't — please don't 
— lay too much stress on my theories. / hate psychology. 

" P. S. I don't want to be a ' subliminal.' ..." 

The relations of B I, B IV, and B II with one another, 
as thus far made out, could be diagrammatically expressed 
in the form of a genealogical tree as follows: 



The solid line indicates both descent and synthesis. 
Where was the original B ? 

B I or B IV. It was therefore necessary by suggestion to prevent her from 
changing her personality, which by the hypothesis was the real self as it 
existed before " Providence." 
1 Page 275. 


Attention has already been called to one more point, 
which needs to be kept in mind, that when B I and B IV 
became B II a very wide synthesis took place. B II had 
the memories of both I and IV. She was more, then, 
than a mere hypnotic state of either. She was a synthesis 
of both, though in hypnosis. 



IT will be remembered that it was determined in the 
course of the study of B I that that personality was 
subject to grave instability and suggestibility. It remained 
to make a similar study of B IV. Besides amnesia (Chap- 
ter XV) such a study necessarily included : 

(A) Phenomena of dissociation and automatism. 

(B) Health. 

(C) Physiological, moral, and mental reactions, particu- 
larly as contrasted with those of B I. 

(A) Dissociation and automatisjii. A high degree of 
suggestibility is a departure from the normal, and belongs 
among the stigmata of hysteria. The crystal vision of the 
hospital adventure, and of her "coming," June 7, as well 
as those visions which she induced in herself, were indica- 
tive of suggestibility of no mean degree. The automatism 
was further evidenced by the spontaneous outburst of sub- 
conscious activity ; for instance, Sally's inhibiting or per- 
verting the thought of the personal self. Systematized 
anesthesia and positive hallucinations could also be in- 
duced in her from within, that is to say, by the influence 
of a subconscious idea, — the subconscious idea being 
Sally's. Such phenomena must be regarded as evidence of 
a mind that has undergone some degree of disintegration. 
I emphasize the word "spontaneous," because, by artificial 
means (hypnotic suggestion) a mental dissociation in some 
apparently healthy people can be experimentally induced 
which is capable of exhibiting such automatic phenomena 


(post-hypnotic suggestion, etc.). We shall later see that, 
to the degree to which B I and B IV were restored to the 
normal, Sally lost the power of influencing the resulting 

Numerous observations might be given of the sponta- 
neous action of the dissociated extra-consciousness (Sally) 
on the personal consciousness (B IV). A sufficient num- 
ber of examples will be found in the Appendix. The 
resulting phenomena consisted of hallucinations, paralysis, 
aboulia, amnesia, automatic speech and writing, etc. Thus 
Sally on one occasion by an act of volition altered the 
details of a "mind-fixing" vision through which B IV 
endeavored to obtain information of the circumstances of 
her stay as B I in a private hospital. B IV, in conse- 
quence, saw in the room Dr. S. whom she did not know, 
etc. (Appendix F.) 

On another occasion, subconscious Sally, paralyzing 
B IV's tongue and lips, made her dumb. B IV, however, 
was in a hypnotic state at the time, and therefore the 
observation must be taken only as illustrating the ease 
with which a disintegrated mind can be influenced, 
whether from within or from without, to exhibit abnormal 
phenomena. When the primary waking consciousness 
exhibits such phenomena it is presumptive evidence of 
abnormality. (Appendix G. ) 

On another occasion Sally produced motor automatism 
and systematized anesthesia (negative hallucinations) in 
B IV. In this observation B IV seized a pencil out of my 
hand and threw it across the room, and then was stricken 
with blindness for written messages intended for Sally. 
(Appendix H.) 

On another occasion B IV became blind for the text of a 
French book which appeared to her to be a blank notebook. 
Then, when directed to pick out a French book from the 
bookcase, she saw no bookcase at all, but insisted that the 


walls were sheathed with wooden panels like the rest of 
the room (positive hallucination). The dominant idea and 
belief that there was no bookcase in front of her induced 
the positive hallucination of wooden panelling. B IV 
owed this hallucination to Sally's jealousy of B IV's ac- 
complishment of reading French. (Appendix I.) 

On another occasion I saw an exhibition of the contest 
between two wills — between that of the personal and that 
of the dissociated consciousness. Sally tried to make 
B IV dumb; B IV, bound that she would talk and not be 
controlled, succeeded by dint of much stuttering, in mak- 
ing herself understood. (Appendix J.) ' 

Again B IV was afflicted with amnesia for the name of 
a person of whom Sally is jealous. Sally would not allow 
that name to be mentioned. 

Automatic writing and speech were very common. 
Numerous records of the former will be found in Chapters 
XXII and XXIII, and instances of the latter are inter- 
spersed throughout this account. 

Phenomena of the kind just recorded are indicative of 
more than suggestibility; namely, of the dissociation of 
consciousness, and the coactivity of the dissociated men- 
tal states (Sally). It may be pointed out in passing that 
some of the hallucinatory phenomena in this case illustrate 
the relation between such phenomena and the dominating 
ideas (beliefs, etc.) which directly give rise to them; for 
instance, the illusion on the part of B IV of mistaking 
me for some one else, on her advent, June 7, 1899. The 
illusion was the psychical expression of her belief. Believing 
the time was 1893, the scene the room in the hospital, and 
that she had just seen Jones at the window, the illusion 
was suggested by this belief. So, also, when B I failed 
to see the rings upon the ribbon tied to her neck, this 
negative hallucination was the expression of the belief that 
she had lost the rings. Again, when B IV believed for 


the moment that there was no bookcase in front of her, the 
hallucination of the panelling was the expression of this 

Similarly, another patient, Mrs. J n, previously re- 
ferred to, who, like B IV, on " waking up " went back nine 
years in her life, and who at the time of her " disappear- 
ance " was slight of figure but in the interim had grown 
fat, with a girth of waist of thirty-four inches, insisted, by 
an illusion, on reading the tape measure twenty-one inches, 
that having been her measurement at the earlier period. 
She could only see herself, too, as slight in figure. 

Such phenomena answer the famous question of Gries- 
singer, " Why do insane people believe in their hallucina- 
tions?" The answer in many cases, though not in all, 
must be. They have their hallucinations because they 
believe the content of them to be true. The hallucination 
is the expression of their belief. 

In other cases, however, the hallucination, as well as the 
systematized anesthesia, is not dependent on the belief in 
the primary mind, but is plainly the action of subconscious 
mental states upon the waking consciousness. When B I 
failed to see the rings, the primary belief originated entirely 
in her personal mind ; but when B IV failed to be conscious 
of the bookcase and of the writing on the sheets of paper 
placed before her, the systematized blindness was induced 
in some way, — unnecessary for us to inquire into in this 
place, — by the action of a subconscious, dissociated mind 
(Sally) upon the personal mind, robbing it of some of its 
visual perceptions. Psychologically, a negative halluci- 
nation, the failure to see or hear something present, is 
very different from a positive hallucination, yet both may 
have their origin in the action of extra-conscious ideas 
upon the personal consciousness. Examples of positive 
hallucination arising in that way will occur all through 
this biography. It would seem that observations of this 


kind, and they are manifold in variety and number, open 
up to the alienist a field for experimental inquiry which 
should produce a rich harvest. 

These observations, as well as numerous others of auto- 
matic writing, showed first, abnormal suggestibility on the 
part of B IV; and second, that Sally, as a group of auton- 
omous dissociated states, coexisted with B IV. 

(B) Health. The matter of health was of some impor- 
tance in deciding upon B IV's identity even, as it offered 
an interesting study of neurasthenia and the influence of 
the mind on the body. If she were free from neurasthenic 
symptoms it would be another point in favor of her nor- 
mality and identification with the true self. B IV did not 
require, indeed refused, medical advice. She claimed to 
be strong and free from symptoms. Was this true, or was 
it only a bluff, to escape supervision ? It took some time 
to determine this point, and it was not settled until one 
day when, unable to stick it out, she broke down and 
asked for medical help. It then transpired, and was after- 
ward frequently confirmed, that she was more or less of a 
neurasthenic; but still the interesting fact was brought 
out by degrees that there was a vast difference between 
the physical health of B I and that of B IV. B IV was 
much the stronger of the two, so much so that she herself 
scarcely recognized any unusual limitation to her powers, 
and, if she had not been the victim of constant harassing 
troubles, she would have had fair health. The depend- 
ence of physical infirmities^ like pain, fatigue, and insom- 
nia, upon a mental change of personality is a matter of 
considerable significance from the point of view of the 
pathology of the neurasthenic state. This was particu- 
larly illustrated by Sally, who was absolutely free from ill 
health. She did not know the meaning of pain and fatigue. 
In health B IV stood half-way between the other two. 

(C) The following table gives an analysis of the physio- 



logical, moral, and intellectual characteristics of B I and 
B IV. It is written in the first person, the Real Miss 
Beauchamp describing her own traits, according as she is 
in state B I or B IV, but it has been carefully collated and 
discussed between us. The greater number of these con- 
trasted peculiarities have been the object of my personal 
observation, and for their accuracy I can vouch. It was 
often easy to recognize whether it was B I or B IV who 
entered the room by certain plainly manifested traits, — the 
character of her clothes, the way her hair was dressed, her 
response to physical contact, as in shaking hands, and her 
replies to questions that brought out her moods. Even 
the single conventional greeting, "How do you do?" 
would elicit a response that left no doubt. A study of 
the table will suggest that some of these traits must 
necessarily have carried with them mannerisms that would 
be characteristic and unmistakable. This was the case. 

TASTES {pliysiological) 

Those marked with an * were characteristic of childhood, before disinte- 
gration into B I and B IV took place (1893). The Real Miss Beauchamp has 
a normal memory of herself as B I and B IV and of her childhood. 

(I) (IV) 

Appetite usually very poor ; Appetite usually very good ; 
care little for the pleasures of like good food, 
the table. 

Eat things which are con- Eat only what I like, 
sidered good for one. 

Take black coffee, as stimu- Take coffee (with sugar and 
lant (never with sugar or cream), and love both taste 
cream), but dislike both the and odor, 
taste and odor of it. The 
latter nauseates me. 

Like milk and take a great Dislike milk and do not drink 
deal of it and regularly.* it unless obliged to. 



Like lemonade with sugar.* 

Like soda with syrups, etc. ; 
do not like it plain.* 

Rarely take wine, though I 
like it. Am easily affected by 
it. Never drank a whole 
glassful at a time.* 

Like lemonade without sugar ; 
cannot drink it if sweetened. 

Like plain soda ; cannot drink 
it with syrups. 

Always take wine. Have a 
strong head, and can drink 
several glasses without being 
in the least affected. Have 
drunk what would be the 
equivalent of at least eight or 
ten glasses without being con- 
scious of any effect whatever. 

Very fond of vegetables and Dislike all vegetables and 
would gladly be a vegetarian, never eat them.* 

Never use vinegar.* 

Never use oil.* 

Like soups, broths, etc.* 

Cannot eat 05'sters. 

Use a great deal of vinegar. 
Use a great deal of oil. 
Never eat soups or broths. 

Very fond of oysters.* 

Like graham bread, rye bread. Never eat anything but white 
etc. bread.* 

Fond of ice cream.* 

Cannot take sherbet. 

Dislike the smell of cigarettes ; 
never smoked one in my life ; 
have moral objections to smok- 
ing and feel distressed on 
learning I have smoked as B 
IV ; have been nauseated from 
effect of B IV's smoking.* 

Never eat ice cream. 

Very fond of sherbet.* 

Extravagantly fond of smok- 
ing, and can smoke almost 
innumerable cigarettes with- 
out feeling any ill effects. 




Have a strong aversion to 
taking medicine of any kind 
unless absolutely obliged to ; 
am almost invariably nau- 
seated by the mere thought of 
taking it.* 

Am always experimenting 
with drugs, patent medicines, 

Rather averse to out-of-door 

exercise, though chiefly, I 

think, because of not feeling 
up to it. 

Extravagantly fond of all out- 
of-door things, and apt to in- 
dulge in them regardless of 

TASTES (moral) 

Always wear hair low. 

Cannot bear tight clothing, 
because of pain and discom- 

Always wear hair high; am 
made extremely nervous by 
the way B I wears it. 

Like clothes very tight — so 
tight as to cause B I acute 

Like black, white, and soft Never wear black — hate it; 

shades of color in dress ; dis- 
like practically everything af- 
fected by B IV. 

am fond of white, and, gen- 
erally, of more vivid colors 
than B I ; generally change 
clothes I find myself wearing 

Like rings very much, and 
wear them. 

Dislike rings ; find them un- 
comfortable and irritating ; 
never wear them. 

Like button boots of soft flex- 
ible material ; high laced boots 
cause acute discomfort ; by 
choice wear low shoes. 

Like high-laced boots of firm 
material ; dislike button boots 
and cannot wear them without 
being made tired and nervous ; 
dislike low shoes and never 
wear them. 



Dislike sunlight and the glare 
of the streets; keep shades 
low in order to have dim light 
in room ; am very apt to have 
headache if light is strong. 

Love sunlight and the glare 
of the streets; fasten shades 
at the very top of the window 
in such a way as to make it 
difficult for B I to change 

Very fond of church and of 
church services.* 

Like devotional books 
read a great many.* 


Never read newspapers, and 
care very little about what is 
going on in the world. 

Am like other people in this 

Never, voluntarily, enter 
church or attend any service. 

Never read devotional books, 
and am annoyed by having 
them lying about. 

Devour newspapers with great 
enjoyment, and take an eager 
interest in general affairs.* 

Dislike intensely being touched 
by any one, even shaking hands 
with any one. 




Considerate of others. 

Even temperament, though 
tinged with depression ; ami- 
able; never angry. 

Never rude or intolerant. 

Most impatient. 

Consider only myself and my 
personal convenience. 

Quick-tempered, and subject 
to violent rages which noth- 
ing will restrain ; circum- 
stances which depress B I 
arouse anger in B IV. 

Rude if opposed, and apt to 
be intolerant at all times. 


Fight Sally day and night. 

Never quarrel with Sally or 
attempt retaliation. 

Never enter into a contest 
vrhen opposed. 

Always ready for a contest if 

Nothing suggests retaliation ; 
never take offence. 

Very dependent. 

Quick to take offence and to 
retaliate for what would be 
immaterial to B I. "I wear 
a chip on my shoulder." 

Extremely self-reliant. 

Strong will only in pursuing Indomitable will and obstinacy, 
an ideal ; otherwise, easily in- even if only to have own way ; 
fluenced and yielding. rarely influenced by others. 

Ready to take advice, and Unwilling to take advice or 
need the moral help of control, submit to any control. 

Practically free from vanity Vain, and extremely conceited, 
and conceit. " Imagine I am quite capable 

of running the world." 

Rarely make suggestions, and Am constantly making sug- 
never volunteer advice. gestions, volunteering advice, 


As a rule, yield to emotions. Never yield to emotions. 

Spend a great deal of time in Never spend a moment dream- 
dreaming, and lead a medita- ing ; lead an exceptionally ac • 
tive, dreamy life. tive life. 

Read a great deal, and find Read very little, and do not 

reading one of my greatest care about it; prefer books 

pleasures; have catholic tastes; dealing with facts ; care noth- 



also love the beauty of the ing for the binding or form of 
book itself as well. Fond of the book. Never read B I's 
books of devotion, poetry, and books, 
novels. Never read B IV's 

Dislike writing, and do very Write a great deal and like it. 

Hate sewing. 

Like sewing. 

Morbidly averse to meeting Delighted to meet new people, 
people, and to forming new but quite as averse to forming 
friendships. friendships as B I. 

Devoted to old people. 

Detest old people. 

Love to be with people who Hate illness, and have morbid 
are ill or suffering. horror of everything connected 

with it. 

Very fond of children.* 

I think children a great nuis- 

Enjoy doing charitable or al- 
truistic work, visiting and 
reading to invalids or old 
people, visiting the poor, etc. 

Hate such things. 

Religious in thought, and lay 
much emphasis on outward 
observance. Fond of church 
and church services, of keep- 
ing fasts and doing penance. 

Converse of this. 

Given to idealizing friends, and 
even mere acquaintances. 

Entirely without this. 


Have different set of friends 
from B IV, with consequent 
social difficulties. 

Am emotionally affected by 
religious services and indulge 
these emotions. 

No fear of the dark. 

Have different set of friends 
from B I ; cannot, as a rule, 
endure the people she likes. 

Also emotionally affected, but, 
knowing that I have been 
profoundly affected by these 
things in the past, I avoid them 
and all mention of them when- 
ever possible. When not pos- 
sible, I endeavor to abstract 
myself as much as I can in 
order not to be influenced and 
not to remember. 
Great fear of the dark. 


Knowledge that was obtained 
by B I through study, such as 
French, Latin, shorthand, etc., 

was often not possessed by 
B I unless lost by B IV. 

was often found not to be 
possessed by B IV unless 
lost by B I. 

What was learned by B IV 

[That is to say, these acquisitions alternated between B I 
and B IV: when B I could read French, B IV could not, and 
vice versa, — that is, the memory of these languages was al- 
ternately synthesized with the two personalities, but it is not 
possible to say it was never synthesized by both, for obvious 

Emotionalism. There is one trait common to both I 
and IV which deserves more particular mention on account 
of the part it played in the psychological drama of this 
case. In both personalities the emotions ordinarily asso- 


ciated with specific experiences were felt with extraor- 
dinary intensity and rushed upon them with flash-like 
rapidity. Music, religion, scenery, a poem, a story, or 
the personality of an individual aroused intense feelings, 
pleasant or unpleasant, which swayed B I irresistibly and 
threatened to dominate IV. Even in recalling to memory 
a scene of the past each lived over again all the feelings 
experienced at the time. (The power of visualization is 
80 marked in both that a mere verbal description of an 
event awakens a visualized picture of the whole.) Of the 
two, probably the feelings of IV were the more intense. 
But there was a great difference in the behavior of I and 
IV to these emotions. B I's life was given up to their 
influence. In the play of her mobile features every feel- 
ing could easily be read. But IV fought against them, 
trampled upon them, resisted them with all her might 
and main. She was determined that she would not be 
under the influence of her emotions, whether of religion or 
music, or of those coming from the pereonal influence of 
another. She indeed concealed this side of her character 
successfully for a long time, pretending that she was in- 
different to all that really affected her intensely. Sally 
was completely hoodwinked by her. IV even wrote per- 
verted analyses of her mental reactions to various experi- 
ences (music, books, religion, etc.), in order that the truth 
might not be guessed. She was bound that she would not 
be the slave of her emotions, which meant idealism, but 
would be free. 

Insistent ideas. " When we examine the demeanor and 
thought of certain patients, particularly hystericals, " says 
Janet, " we soon discover that their thoughts are not like 
those of other people. While with others ordinary ideas, 
sensations called forth by the sight of surrounding objects 
or accidental convereations, retain some sort of normal 
calm — their balance, so to say, along with other psy- 


chological phenomena — with hystericals it is otherwise. 
One particular notion will at once assume an undue impor- 
tance — an importance altogether out of proportion to their 
other ideas — and play a chief part in their lives. This 
fact has often been observed and pointed out by students. "^ 

We may say that there is a limitation of the field of 
consciousness in the sense that only one point of view at 
a time can be made use of by the subject. There is a 
restriction at any given moment of the total number of 
associated ideas. The subject is unable constantly to 
readjust his ideas according to the requirements of the 
moment; to compare and shift his point of view and thus 
get a balanced judgment. The content of consciousness 
becomes contracted to a single idea which dominates the 
mind. The consequence is, that the hysteric tends to be 
under the domination of the particular idea which is 
present at any given moment, while one or more tend to 
be pereistent and may even become fixed ideas. This was 
the case with both B I and B IV. Whatever idea came 
into their minds respectively tended to dominate the judg- 
ment and control the conduct of each, regardless of the 
wisdom or unwisdom of the resulting act. 

This was particularly the case when an idea was accom- 
panied by a strong emotion. Then it was simply impos- 
sible for either personality to see any other point of view. 
Argument and expostulation were in vain, and what practi- 
cally was equally inconvenient, nearly every act or word of 
others was interpreted from this point of view. The only 
remedy was hypnosis and suggestion, and then in a moment 
all would be changed. 

This incapacity correctly to interpret the environment is 
a marked peculiarity of certain types of the hysteric mind, 
but one which is generally overlooked. The hysteric given 
over to insistent ideas is unable correctly to interpret his 

1 The Mental State of Hystericals. 


environment. His perceptions are perverted, owing to a 
faulty translation of everything through his own ideas. 
Visual and auditory images are aroused in his mind with 
abnormal vividness, and in consequence the ideas associated 
with any given perception, especially when of an emotional 
character, are revived with an undue intensity and give a 
distorted meaning to the perceptions. The associated 
ideas fill his conscious field instead of the perception. 
This largely accounts for the supposed lying to which in 
text-books hysterics are erroneously regarded as prone. 
They do not intend to lie, but simply narrate their own 
distorted perceptions. 

This domination of ideas in B I and B IV tended to 
greatly add to the difficulties of the management of the 
case. It interfered with the daily routine of life and led 
to the assumption of responsibilities and tasks far beyond 
the strength and capacity of either personality to fulfil. 

There was one other very curious peculiarity in the rela- 
tions of B I and B IV, which has already been described 
but which should be mentioned in this connection. It had, 
moreover, certain practical results, both in the undoing 
of the personalities and in their restoration to normality. 
It was this : though B IV and B I had, respectively, am- 
nesia for the ideas and sensory experiences of each other, 
the emotions of the one awakened by such ideas and experi- 
ences were often retained by the other, and were, therefore, 
more or less common to both. If, for instance, B I for 
some cause became anxious or fearful about some partic- 
ular matter, when she changed to B IV the latter felt anx- 
ious or fearful without knowing why. The resulting 
phenomenon was much like one of those obsessions of 
which I have already spoken (Chapter VIII), and which 
play such a prominent role in clinical medicine. Although 
B I and B IV as personalities were not subconscious — in 
the sense in which this term is used in this study — to 


each other, yet certain isolated, disconnected, "scrappy" 
memories of each sometimes persisted and formed a co- 
consciousness to the other. At least there is experimental 
evidence tending to show this. The emotions of the wak- 
ing personality, then, came from the subconscious memo- 
ries, just as did B I's indefinable fears before the advent 
of B IV (p. 133). Finally, the effect of the same emo- 
tion produced interestingly different results in the two 
personalities. In B IV worry or anxiety produced insom- 
nia or fatigue, which in turn excited bad temper. Then 
all good resolutions were thrown to the winds; all sorts 
of obsessing ideas arose; the world was against her, and 
she was against the world and defied it by rebellion. On 
the other hand, in B I the same emotion produced insom- 
nia and fatigue also, but instead of bad temper there fol- 
lowed depression, weariness, a feeling of helplessness, 
penitence, and recourse to prayer. The following in- 
stance will illustrate: 

B IV had temporarily reformed. Suddenly, and appar- 
ently without motive, she became angry, rebellious, bel- 
ligerent. After passing most of the night, as a relief for 
insomnia, in writing some records for me, she pitched the 
whole thing into the fire in the morning, in a fit of anger. 
When reprimanded, she complained of a feeling of anxiety 
and dread, unconnected with any known idea, and of the 
origin of which she was ignorant. It was a distinct feel- 
ing of being anxious about something, but she did not 
know what that something was. It was discovered 
through hypnosis (by methods to be described in the next 
chapter) that B I was anxious about a particular matter. 
Her apprehension was so intense that it induced insomnia, 
but, saintlike, she sought relief in prayer and church. 
B IV did not definitely know what the trouble was, but 
she, too, felt the anxiety, which likewise in her induced 
insomnia; her relief was not prayer and church, however, 


but anger and the destruction of the records. The evi- 
dence obtained showed that it was the same emotion that 
was experienced by both B I and B IV. 

These extraordinary differences in the characteristics of 
B I and B IV furnish data for determining the psychology 
of character of which we shall make a further study in 
Part III. That a person's character may change in a 
moment, becoming in a second of time the antithesis of 
what it was, opens up the questions. What is character? 
and, What makes character? The phenomena of disinte- 
grated personality suggest that our characters are wholly 
a matter of brain associations, and that they may be altered 
for good or for ill, by anything that will bring about a 
rearrangement of these associations. 

At first in the course of this study it seemed as if the 
differences in character between B I and B IV might be 
determined by differences in memory. It has been held ^ 
that disorders of character are dependent upon disorders of 
memory; but when one studies the differences in the 
fhysiological reactions manifested by B I and B IV it 
seems inconceivable that they can be brought about by 
differences in memory, as that term is ordinarily under- 
stood. Surely the susceptibility to alcohol of B I, who 
felt uncomfortable from one glass of wine, and the immu- 
nity of B IV, who has taken without conscious effect 
three or four glasses of champagne, followed by as many 
cocktails and several glasses of liqueur, cannot be ex- 
plained in any way by memory. Nor can the differences 
in tastes, such as the fondness for sugar, oil, vinegar, 
etc., on the part of one personality, and the dislike on 
the part of the other for the same things, be made intelli- 
gible on the ground of memory, in the absence of any 
known experiences, pleasant or unpleasant, in connection 
with them. Miss Beauchamp can recall nothing that 

1 Pierre Janet, The Mental State of Hjstericals (1901), p. 78. 


would suggest a reason for these differences. The vary- 
ing hyperesthesia in the two personalities, such as the 
intense dislike of being touched by another person, the 
dislike of finger rings and buttoned boots, ma,nifested by 
B IV, and B I's dislike of tight clothing, high-laced 
boots, etc., cannot be explained on the basis of memory. 
The same is true of B I's depression and of its absence 
in B IV. 

Even when we include in memory all the half-consciously 
associated experiences, ideas, and emotions grouped about 
any particular thing in the object world, it is difficult to 
understand through such associations the different reac- 
tions to sunlight and color which we find in our table. 
These led to differences in habits and in dress ; peculiar- 
ities which plainly enter into at least the "caprices" and 
"whims" of the subject. And what shall be said to ex- 
plain through memories the differences in the religious 
feelings? Each personality remembered their mutual 
early life, when the religious education took place. And 
when we pass to moral and intellectual attitudes, which 
essentially belong to character, the memories must be 
exquisitely subtle that can oppose vanity to unconscious- 
ness of self, quick temper to serenity, and indomitable will 
and mule-like obstinacy to yielding docility. 

It seems to me that such great differences can be ex- 
plained only through differences in the reactions of the 
mind (or brain) to the environment; such differences in 
the reactions being due to dissociations of mental processes 
and reassociations of them in new systems of mental states. 
The cards, so to speak, have been reshuffled and. a new 
hand dealt. 

That B IV is a very different character from the Miss 
Beauchamp who first presented herself in 1898 must be 
plainly manifest to the most casual reader. But did the 
change portend a return to a previous state ? The extreme 


mobility of the psychical states, the suggestibility, the 
readiness with which dissociation took place, and the ease 
with which she was influenced by the subconscious state 
(Sally), implied an unstable condition and tendency to 
disintegration, and were against normality. But B I 
showed the same peculiarities, and between the two in 
these respects there was nothing to choose. If mobility, 
dissociation, and suggestibility were taken as criteria, 
B IV was quite as normal as our Miss Beauchamp, and 
quite as likely to be the real original self. 

On the other hand, many of IV 's other characteristics, 
especially the absence of aboulia, the lowered impression- 
ability and emotionalism, the lessened neurasthenia, the 
self-reliance, etc., etc., pointed to a greater degree of 
normality, with the possibility that she was the real self. 

The more the two personalities were studied, the more 
abnormal both appeared, and the less there seemed to 
choose between them. 



DECEMBER, 1899, was passed in studying B II. The 
best idea of B II can be gained, I think, if her mode 
of speech and manner when she makes her appearance are 
described, as well as the way in which it is customary to 
bring her. B II never comes spontaneously, like B I and 
B IV. When the other characters change parts they do 
it with one another, never with B II. It is necessary to 
bring B II by word of command. B I or B IV, as the 
case may be, is hypnotized in any one of the conventional 
ways, — a word of command for the eyes to close and for the 
personahty to sleep being ordinarily sufficient. Then the 
command, " Change ; B II," is given, and if successful 
B II is there. 

As a test of identity I have been in the habit of putting 
certain questions which are answered differently by each. 
Not only the answers but the manner of each is so different 
that it is almost impossible to mistake the character. SaUy, 
as a joke, used sometimes to imitate B II, but the imita- 
tion was so poor it was easily detected. B IV at a later 
period, being in rebellion against the new order of things, 
would try to prevent my getting B II, and at times while 
apparently half hypnotized ^ would claim that she was B II, 
but a single test question of memory would settle the 
matter, aside from her mannerisms, which were as different 
from those of B II as, we will say, Sarah Bernliai'dt's 

1 At such times, as will later appear, B IV was in another hypnotic 
condition, B IV a and, correspondingly, B I in what was known as B I a. 


from Duse's. But aside from these times of active rebel- 
lion and war, when the question, "Who is this?" was 
asked, if the change of personality was not complete, the 
answer would be, " B I " or " B IV," as the case might be, 
the individual being in what seemed a half-hypnotic con- 
dition. When the change was complete, the answer would 
be, " I am myself," or " I am Miss Beauchamp." There 
was a quiet dignity in her manner that was impressive. 
Then would follow the colloquy already mentioned: 

« Where is B I ? " 

" I am B I, Dr. Prince." 

" Where is B IV?" 

" I am B IV." 

Every attempt to confuse her would fail, and she would 
never allow one to make any distinction between herself 
and these personalities, or even between B I and B IV. 
She recognized the fact that she behaved differently in the 
respective roles of B I and B IV, but I could never speak 
of B I or B IV as such without being reminded that it was 
herself ; consequently I was obliged, as a rule, to use some 
such phrase as, " You as B I," or " When you were B IV." 
She insisted, in sorrow, upon assuming full responsibility for 
B IV's conduct, saying that it was herself after all, and she 
could not shirk the responsibility. She recognized the fact 
that as B IV she did not know what she did as B I, and 
viee versa ; but she, B II, knew everything.^ She could 
give no explanation of the metamorphosis from one to the 
other of the personalities, or why at one time she could not 
remember what had been done at another time. 

Then, as a character, she was in many respects different 
from B I, and totally different from B IV. With a full 
knowledge of the past six years, the spectacle of hereelf as 
B IV rebelling against her friends, fibbing, and prevaricat- 
ing, was a source of great pain to her ; and when later 
1 Exceptiug, of course, about Sally. 


B IV plotted to get rid of all control, terrorizing B I into 
a belief that every one was tired of her, B II would beg not 
to be given up, not to be allowed to leave us, not to be de- 
serted. She would ask, " Why do I behave so ? " and then 
plead not to be permitted to do it. She would humbly 
apologize for her conduct, which she took deeply to heart. 

In character B II seemed to answer all the requirements 
of the Miss Beauchamp we were in search of. She was 
without the morbid idealism and impressionability of B I, 
and without those traits of B IV which all recognized to 
be departures from the original self. But of course, as she 
had never been allowed to live a life of her own, indepen- 
dent of the other selves, had never indeed opened her eyes, 
what kind of a person she would be, how she would behave, 
how she would react to her environment, if her eyes were 
opened, could not be foretold. 

It was evident that B II had developed in many respects 
since those early days, nearly two years before, when she 
was described as the soul of Miss Beauchamp. She still 
seemed to be that, but she was more. There was an ab- 
sence of that melancholy sadness and weariness that had 
formerly characterized her. She was less nervous, showed 
less humility, less morbid conscientiousness ; she was more 
natural, more light-hearted, and possessed greater sponta- 
neity and intellectual grasp. The significance of this change, 
which was ascribed to psychological growth following 
wider experience, was not recognized for some time. When 
the true explanation was found the problem acquired wider 
proportions. B II then had apparently grown into a 
character differing almost as widely from B las from B IV. 

Two hypotheses were now admissible : (l)BI-l-BIV 
might be the real self, that is, B X (not yet found) ; (2) B II 
might be the actual real self, but in hypnosis, which self 
became disintegrated at one time into B I and at another 
into B IV. In either case it was plain that B 11 was 


not a hypnotized fragment of B I or B IV alone, for she 
had a larger field of consciousness than either, and her 
memories included the memories of both. The real self, 
then, might be X, some one we had not yet seen, or it might 
be B II awake. If the second hypothesis was the correct 
one, then B II would be the real self (in hypnosis) whom 
I had been hunting for. Under both hypotheses B I and 
B IV would each be mutilated selves, parts only of the real 
self, each a sort of somnambulistic personage. 

It was quite possible, however, that the hypotheses were 
not exclusive of one another, but that both hypotheses 
might be correct ; which would mean that B X (or B I + 
B IV) in hypnosis was B II. 

We have spoken always of B I and B IV being hypno- 
tized into B 11. According to the second hypothesis, as 
B II was a synthesis of B I and B IV, the process was 
in part the reverse of this; instead of being hypnotized 
into B II, B I and B IV would be each partially waked 
up when changing to B II, — partially, because the person 
was in hypnosis. The process, instead of hypnotizing, 
would be one of awakening into real life, because it was 
a synthesizing of dissociated groups of mental states. 
Conversely, when B II was said to wake up, what really 
happened was that she became disintegrated. Her mind 
became cleft into two dissociated systems, one system 
representing B I and the other B IV. From a technical 
point of view she would be said to go into two somnam- 
bulistic conditions respectively. Whether she went into 
one state or the other was apparently a matter of chance. 
. If the cleavage was in one direction she became B I ; if in 
another, B IV. In each state certain portions of the mind 
or brain became dormant. The first of the new hypotheses 
also involved a similar cleavage of B X into B I and B IV. 

It remained to test the hypotheses. If B II was the 
real self asleep, it would be necessar}^ only to keep her 



herself and have her open her eyes and awake, and she 
would straightway walk forth resurrected, whole, and un- 
mutilated. In spite of the risks I determined to try the 

One day B II was brought. After talking to her a short 
time, I said, " Listen to what I say. I want you to open 
your eyes; to remain yourself as you are now; not to 
change to B I or B IV, but be yourself," etc. ; then finally 
I commanded, " Open your eyes." Her eyes opened. She 
looked about with a vacant look on her face. She did 
not know me or the room. She knew very little about 
herself, or, in fact, anybody else. She said she must go, 
but did not know where she was going or where she 
lived. Her mental associations were completely dis- 
organized. She seemed to be a dement. 

The experiment was plainly a failure. It was evident 
that she could not be allowed to go about in that state, so 
I closed her eyes again and brought B II, who, however, 
could throw no light on the matter. She did not know 
why she had developed such confusion when her eyes were 
opened, though she remembered the fact of having been a 
moment before in that condition. The experiment was 
repeated later, but again failed. 

It remained necessary to test the first hypothesis and see 
if B I and B IV could be blended into one personality, — 
the real self. 

This is a good place, before describing the results of 
these experiments, to record another discovery, although it 
was not made until a much later period. This discovery 
explained the apparent change that had taken place in 
\^the character of B II, and her identity with B VI. Our 
present B II was not the original B 11^ the hypnotic self 
which appeared the first time Miss Beauchamp was hypno- 
tized, before Sally's advent. 


It will be remembered that the original B II was de- 
scribed as a passive hypnotic state, having for the most part 
the characteristics of B I and into which the latter went 
when hypnotized. Later this B II was replaced by Sally 
and very little was seen of her until about the time when 
the discovery was made that B I and B IV became the 
same when hypnotized. It was assumed that the resulting 
hypnotic self was the same as the original B II, though the 
differences which have been pointed out were noticed. The 
changes in character were attributed to the effect of educa- 
tion, as they well might be. But as time went on it was 
found that while the original B II was plainly B I in char- 
acter, the present B II showed distinct differences, which be- 
came more and more marked as Miss Beauchamp's trouble 
subsided. She did not have the saintlike attitude of B I 
any more than she had the belligerent irascibility of B IV ; 
rather, she exhibited a well-balanced poise of mind which 
spoke for normality. She was not only simple and 
truthful, but her point of view was plain common-sense. 
The suspicion arose that the original conception of B II 
was erroneous, but later the original state reappeared. It 
was then found that this state was an entirely different 
one from the New B II with which we had been dealing 
of late. The test of memory alone proved this. This 
original state which frequently reappeared had no knowl- 
edge of B IV, as the New B II had. She knew only her- 
self as B I, as formerly was the case. In character, too, 
she was easily recognized as the original B II : there was 
no mistaking her. In other words, she was only B I 
hypnotized ; she in no way partook of B IV. It seemed 
best then to rename the original hypnotic state, B la. 

From these observations it was plain that B I when hyp- 
notized went into two different states: B la, and B II 
(= B VI). 

We may construct a scheme to illustrate the relations to 


each other of the different psychical groups and the mem- 
ories which each possessed, dissociation being indicated by 
broken lines and synthesis by solid lines : 





The memories of B la were not perceptibly broader 
than those of Miss Beauchamp, but if the process of " hypno- 
tizing " was carried farther, a very great change took place. 
The memories of B IV became added to those of B I, and 
she became B II; so that in this rearrangement of the 
mental groups there was more than a dissociation (hyp- 
nosis) ; there was a putting together of the memories of 
previously dissociated groups (B I and B IV). 

Later still, as will appear, it was found that B IV could 
be put into a hypnotic state corresponding to Bla, and 
this state was named B IV a. It played a very important 
and obstreperous part in the solution of the problem. As 
with I a, when IV a was still further " hypnotized " (really 
synthesized), it became B II. 

We could then add to our scheme as follows : 


B la 



B 11 


It had been hoped that by waking up B II the real self 
would be obtained. This experiment had proved a failure, 
for on being awakened B II became only a sort of dement. 
That she should be such was a paradox. The question 
now was, Can B I be synthesized with B IV, and will the 
resulting personality, X, be the real self ? If so, it would 
follow that by the disintegration of B X, B I, and B IV 
had- resulted. Our scheme might then hypothetically be 
thus enlarged : 

B X [unknown] 




It is to be understood that these symbols represent alterna- 
ting or successive states, and not contemporaneous states. 

A series of experiments was now undertaken with the 
view of synthesizing the memories of B I and B IV by 
means of suggestion to B II. They were interrupted by 
the outbreak of family rows which compelled the postpone- 
ment of the study. As far as they went, some very inter- 
esting results were obtained. As these experiments were 
resumed at a later period, the details may be deferred until 
those more complete observations are described. It may 
here simply be stated that it was found possible by means 
of suggestions to B II to bring back to B I and B IV, 
respectively, memories of specific events in the life of the 
other ; in other words, to synthesize specific mental states. 
Beyond this at this time the experiments were not carried. 



WE must now take up again the thread of Miss Beau- 
champ's life. 

During the autumn and winter (1899-1900), while these 
studies were being made, the vicissitudes of a triple person- 
ality were going on. Sally had largely transferred her 
interests from B I to B IV, whom she liked better. Leav- 
ing B I, whom she regarded as a weakling, a sentimentalist, 
to go her own way alone, she expended her energy on 
B IV, whom she persisted in hazing as she used to haze 
B I. It must not be thought that Sally was actuated 
solely by a desire to annoy and torment ; that was not her 
idea. The trouble was that she found the daily life of B I 
and B IV dull and boresome, and, as she used to say in 
reply to remonstrances, " What is there for me to do ? " 
Tormenting the others was a game which, childlike, she 
delighted to play. She could n't sit at home, twirling her 
thumbs and doing nothing, and so she occupied the time 
writing notes that would bring a return volley on her head ; 
or in doing or undoing, as the case might be, something 
which the others disliked or liked, if only the arrangement 
of the furniture in the room. 

Then, too, she wanted her way as much as the others 
wanted theii"S. She would promise again and again to have 
no intercourse whatsoever with the family, but, as she used 
to say even while promising, she could not keep promises 
of this kind. It was really impossible to provide her with 
amusement. The outdoor sports, the adventures, and the 


strenuous life which she loved were impossible for Miss 
Beauchamp. One can imagine the difficulty of providing 
three kinds of lives, for one and the same individual, to be 
pursued at different hours, and even the same hour of the 
same day. The result was that Sally, having nothing to 
do, found her enjoyment in teasing the others. She did not 
hate IV as she hated B I ; with IV it was more the excite- 
ment of playing the game. Then too, IV took it all dif- 
ferently from what B I did. B I was terrorized by Sally. 
IV was unterrified, defiant, determined to be mistress of 
herself, " If Sally is only a part of myself," she would 
say, " I will conquer tliis thing ; " and she insisted on fight- 
ing it out. Sally, on her part, would say, " I cannot 
frighten her as I can Miss Beauchamp," at the same time 
pointing out that she herself was at a great disadvantage 
because she did not know IV's thoughts. Sometimes one 
would get the upper hand, and sometimes- the other, B IV's 
point of weakness being that B I's anxiety and her own 
battling would bring insomnia and fatigue to the family 
body, and then, lier physical strength going, she would 
become temporarily discouraged, but never for a moment 
thought of yielding. 

She was able to take advantage in an ingenious way of 
Sally's ignorance of her thoughts. Believing that Sally 
was watching and listening, spying upon her every act, and 
ready to infer her thoughts and motives from what she did, 
she would do all kinds of things to mislead Sally as to her 
own real character and intentions. She would lead her on 
false scents, give her, to use the slang of school parlance, 
" crooked steers," making herself appear by her woixls and 
acts heartless, without emotion, and indifferent to every- 
thing that Miss Beauchamp held dear. Once or twice at a 
somewhat later date (June, 1900), Sally, by a device, dis- 
covered IV's thoughts, and then her astonishment at the 
revelation was extreme, for she found them very different 


from what she had imagined. The same surprise constantly 
awaited her when accidental discoveries revealed TV's real 
motives and intentions. IV would go to no end of pains to 
deceive Sally; as, for instance, one day, being much dis- 
tressed by a certain event, she wound a cloth around her 
head, as if it were a headache that was oppressing her and 
not her mental agitation. 

Sally used at first to take things au pied de la lettre^ but 
later caught on to IV's dodges. One difficulty one always 
had to contend with, namely, Sally's childhke credulity. 
IV would play upon this, telling Sally all sorts of things 
in order to circumvent me and bring about her own ends. 
" IV says you really don't want me to do " so and so ; " IV 
says you want this " ; or " IV says that," Sally would say, 
— each thing being directly contrary to my wishes, and 
generally of great importance. 

IV and Sally kept up a mutual correspondence, which 
was carried on sometimes by Sally's using IV's hand and 
writing automatically as a subconscious self, and sometimes 
by writing in the waking state, as the personalities changed 
back and forth. IV would in this way artfuUy make use 
of Sally to keep herself informed of all that took place 
when B I and Sally were in the flesh, in return for which 
information she would throw Sally a sop in the way of a 
present, or acquiesce in some particular forbidden fruit's 
being plucked. 

Sometimes the two would engage in bickerings, like two 
squabbling children, each scribbling cutting remarks and 
retorts to the other. On some of these occasions, coming 
unexpectedly into the room, I would find pieces of paper 
scribbled over with conversations of this kind. Sally was 
obliged to write her own little pleasantries, but IV could 
communicate hers by speaking aloud ; so Sally would hear 
many a little muttered, left-handed compliment, as well as 
matters of interest. " Little beast," or " Fool," IV would 


mutter ; or, if in a friendly mood, words of information or 

There were times when IV and Sally would enter into 
systematic campaigns of hostilities, each determined to 
down the other. Then IV would gird on her armor, and 
set forth resolute, uncompromising, with blood in her eye, 
determined to suppress Sally for good and all. She would 
do her best to destroy everything that her enemy wrote — 
many a letter to me was destroyed — and to undo every- 
thing done. Whatever she discovered Sally was doing, or 
imagined she was doing, she would reverse. If, for ex- 
ample, she found herself on the way to my house, she 
would turn about and retrace her steps, or at least would 
try to do so, for Sally, in her role as a subconsciousness, 
would at once make a dive for the muscular steering gear, 
there would be a temporary struggle with arms and legs, a 
sort of aboulia, and then it usually happened that Sally, 
victorious, would reverse the machinery and head her again 
for her destination. At night, too, Sally would have another 
turn. As fast as IV would get into bed, Sally, coming 
herself, would get up, and then, changing heraelf back to 
IV, the latter would find herself to her disgust out of bed 
again. And so it went on all night; and if IV got off 
without the bed and furniture being turned upside down, 
she was lucky. 

Then again Sally would refuse to write IV a line of in- 
formation, thus leaving her in the dark as to the course of 
events. This would worry IV more than the hazing, for 
without information she was lost. At the end of about 
two weeks of hostilities IV would appear, with her plu- 
mage plucked, like the historical parrot after the scrap 
with the monkey, and then, thoroughly worn out, she 
would consent to my mediation. But during it all poor 
B I would come from time to time, to find before her the 
mortifying evidences of her other selves' behavior. 


The continuing difficulties arising from the correspond- 
ence with Anna and others added to the confusion. Sally, 
upon whose shoulders the culpability must be placed, 
was in constant communication with forbidden correspond- 
ents, to Miss Beauchamp's annoyance. They must have 
been sorely puzzled, not to say distracted, by the con- 
tradictory actions of the family. All this correspondence, 
harmless in itself, might have been disregarded if it had 
not given encouragement to Sally's independence. 

But aside from this particular influence, when, as was at 
times the case, Sally passed the bounds of all control, there 
was one card which it was possible to play with telling 
effect. In such emergencies, when B I or B IV was 
driven to distraction by Sally's hazing, I would threaten to 
lay the whole case before one high in authority. Sally, 
remembering the past, and terrified by the danger whicli 
threatened others, would thus be brought to her knees and 
reduced to submission — for about two weeks 1 

Some knowledge of all this is necessary to understand 
her correspondence, and the other scraps of writing which 
are included in this account. It will also enable one to 
understand some of the difficulties in the way of thera- 
peutics, which at times made it impossible to pui-sue any 
systematic method of care, and even of experimentation. 

Here are some scraps I surprised IV in the act of writ- 
ing, while Sally Avas trying to reproduce automatically 
some of the destroyed autobiogi'aphy : 

" My precious Sally — Have you eaten my manuscript? If 
not, kindly produce it. I am waiting, and so is the doctor. " 

" Ah ho ! Ah ho ! wake up Sally, Ton are afraid. 
But oh the fear lest a thought should " — 

" O Sally dear, my lips shall be mute if you will only come 
back to me. You may have the [photograph] frame and all 
else that you wish." 


Here are two notes written by Sally, but apparently to 
Miss Beaucbamp rather than IV : 

^ Thou has sinned, '^ 

Thou hast done amiss and dealt wickedly, ^ 

\ The sorrows of death shall compass thee about. ^ 

f The pains of hell shall come upon thee, "^ 

^ Thou Shalt find no help, ^ " 

\ No comfort in heaven or in earth." ^ 

[To B IV.] 

" My Chris she hauls me round the house. 
She hoists me up the stairs. 
I only have to will her. 
And she takes me every wheres. 

" Because she loves me so. 

"Written by Sally's friend, G. B." 

'■'• FOURTEEN^ in one day, you abandoned little wretch! 
And after all you have n't deceived them. You are reckoning 
without S. B. She corrects all your errors for you." 

The last three were found by B I and inclosed in the fol- 
lowing note to me. There was also inclosed (either acci- 
dentally or by Sally) a fragment, the eleventh page of 
another letter to some one else. 

"Can I see you for a few moments some time this week? 
AVednesday afternoon, if possible? You misunderstood my im- 
patience yesterday ; it was not with you — only with myself, 
and my own weakness." 

[Fragment of letter from B I to Z .] "But sometimes 

the weight of this strange curse presses so heavily upon me 
that it seems as if it would crush my very life out, and I hardly 
know what I say or what I do. And it tires me so ! You know 
how long it has lasted — how great the strain. ..." 

^ Lies. 


Unlike B I, B IV had a fine appetite and liked good 
food. Sally frequently guyed her on this human weak- 
ness. One day IV, coming to herself, found herself con- 
templating with great interest the following nonsense 
verses : 

" The greedy piglet 1 
See her mug 
Upturned to suck 
The honey jug. 
Oh, shame ! 
Oh, shame ! " 

After writing this poetic reflection (whether original or 
not I do not know) on IV's carnal appetite, Sally had 
changed herself to IV to enjoy the result. 

Here is a note from Sally to me, after her first attempt 
at the autobiography, describing her difficulty in analyzing 
her thoughts as a subconscious self and making clear how 
they ran synchronously along side of Miss Beauchamp's 
thoughts. On the outside of the envelope was written: 
" B IV is not a person. Why do you all insist that she 
is ? I know she 's rattled." 

" Can't you somehow make me more clever, so that I can write 
this old thing decently? It really is n't half expressed, and the 
nasty thing won't say at all what I mean. Perhaps it would be 
better if I divided the page [into parallel columns] and carried 
it on that way, would it? That was really the way the thought 
went, you know, until I got my eyes open. She could cor- 
rect her side if you wished — if you think she would be more 

" B IV will probably have a very woeful tale to relate when 
she sees you. She thinks the millennium farther off than ever, 
for I have made her sick as a little dog on cabanas [cigarettes]. 
I want her to realize the superiority of her better self. Is n't it 
awfully good of me, for I 'd heaps rather smoke them myself, 
you know ? She 's too done up to be even cross." 


A failure on my part to recognize the manuscript of the 
autobiography, and the consequent scolding of Sally over 
the head of B IV, brought this wrathful letter from the 
former : 

" Autobiography. 
" If you no longer want it, please put it in the fire. I 'm not 
repentant, nor sorry for my sins, nor anxious to comfort the 
poor afflicted family. They may go to the devil. 
" Amen, amen." 

[From Sally to B L] " You may tell Dr. Prince that III is 
absent from home on a scouting expedition for Dicky, and that 
you don't know when she will return. Repeat this exactly, but 
don't show him this paper or you may be very, very sorry. I do 
not choose to be psychologized by any one. 


But Sally soon became alarmed by the consequences of 
her pranks, which resulted in making IV ill and spoiling 
her own fun. Sally's confession is contained in the follow- 
ing letter, which aroused IV's indignation when she read 
Sally's msulting reference : — 

[Sally to Dr. P.] " You won't be cross with me, please, if I 
confess that I 've been teasing B IV lately — much more than 
she told you about. And I am beginning to be afraid that it 
has n't been very good for her, for she seems to be getting all 
tired or sick or something. What shall I do with her? She 
is n't a real person — I know she is n't ; yet one cannot help 
feeling sorry for her sometimes, she is so perfectly helpless. 
Perhaps I 'm responsible for some of her bad temper, too. I 
may as well tell you everything. But she is the most exasper- 
ating monkey you ever saw. One needs must take her ..." 

" Thursday. [January, 1900.] 
[From Sally.] " Many thanks for your note. Being a brick 
is loads nicer than gaining a moral victory. I hate morals and 
victories too. Do you know Dicky and I are great friends 


now. I go to see him. He does u't consider me a subliminal 
at all, on his honor ; and I may stay, and he 's going to hyp- 
notize me to get at the real subliminal. Is n't it amusing ? 
Will he call it B V, and will he make it tell him all about me ? 
I think it 's awfully funny, but I can't conceive of things being 
done without my knowledge, even in hypnosis. They never have 
been, you know, since that very, very early time when I used 
to sleep. Shall I tell you more about the experiments as we 
go on, or do you prefer getting it all from Dicky's point of 
view, as more scientific ? Perhaps I may not know much about 
it anyway, except the things I do to [B] I and IV. 

" Which of the family do you want to see to-morrow? You 
have a wide choice — I, II, III, IV, and V, if Dicky gets it. 
I is blue ; II f uzzling ; III ; IV cranky. IV is also dis- 
turbed, enough so to lie awake all last night because of Mr. 
C.'s determination to have her confirmed this year. She never 
has been, you know ; but it is really impossible now, for she 's 
not fit. She 's always erring and straying. She can't be con- 
firmed. Dr. Prince — you know she can't, for she is n't going to 
stay. B I won't like it. I never dreamed of your knowing 
Mr. C. Please say she must not be confirmed. 1 'm sorry this 
is so long, for I see you are awfully tired, but I wanted just to 
tell you these things. Shall I go on with the writing, or is it 
too bad? Please leave the books for me. Dicky says anything 
will suit him. He won't be critical, and he is very anxious to 
have it. Not from Sally Beauchamp but from [here Sally 
writes her real name]. 

' ' Le roi est mort. Vive le roi ! " 

[January 24, 1900.] 
[From B IV.] " It is really too absurd for me to bore you 
with complaints of Sally, for I know you think I deserve all I 
get from her, and perhaps I do. I won't come again or write 
you. My only thought in asking you to let me come regularly 
and tell you everything that had happened was that by so doing 
you might perhaps control both Sally and myself and make one 
real person, as she would say, out of us. I know she does n't 
think very much of me. I don't myself. I know that what she 
says is true enough. I am perfectly unresponsive to all the things 


that used to touch me most nearly.^ Not that I care, for I 
don't ; yet I am conscious of my deficiencies, and I suppose they 
are what trouble her. Emotionally and spiritually I am dead, 
although still knowing that I ought to feel and to do certain 
things. But I don't feel them and I donH do them. Why? I 
cannot say. I had hoped that you could, and that you would help 
me. You seem to know so much. But I am afraid I have 
taxed you beyond all reason. You must pardon me for being 
so inconsiderate. Very truly yours," 

[From Sally.] "... She 's [IV] so stuffy. . . . She's spend- 
ing all her allowance on carfares. I call it sheer extravagance ! 

I 've taken her stamps away so she can't write you again. You 
are glad of that, are n't you ? It 's such a bother when you are 
busy to keep getting letters." 

On Februciiy 4 some interesting psychological phe- 
nomena were observed. They are too complicated to make 
it desirable to interrupt this narrative with a detailed ac- 
count of them. But the important thing is that Sally was 
told to hypnotize IV and bring B II. This Sally did, but 
her influence was not complete, or else she did not go 
about it right. At any rate, instead of obtaining the real 

II she put IV into what Sally called a half -hypnotic state. 
In other words, IV was disintegrated into another quasi- 
personality. In this condition B IV was half hypnotized, — 
disintegrated, or " rattled " as Sally expressively called it, 
— was very confused as to lier sun'oundings, and scarcely 
recognized any one, but replied to all questions by simply 
following leads and answering as it seemed to her she was 
expected to do. 

As will appear when we come to study disintegration, 
it is possible to break up temporarily B I, B IV, and cnen 
B II, so that they will lose their cognition of surroundings, 
and many of their chains of memory. These different 

1 This whole statement ia a characteristic lie, and intended equally for 
Sally's consiun])tioii. 


disintegrated states of consciousness might then, if one 
chooses, be numbered, and possibly educated into person- 
alities, if a sufficient quantity of consciousness persisted. 
Now making use of Sally to influence IV was playing 
with edged tools, for Sally was so delighted when she dis- 
covered her " hypnotic " power that she immediately pro- 
ceeded surreptitiously to make use of it. She kept putting 
IV into this " half-hypnotic state " and then, the better to 
make her enemy realize her power, wrote her a letter saying 
that she could hypnotize her, had done so, and would do so 
again. In this Sally was diabolically clever ; for it was for 
the deliberate purpose that she might make IV conscious 
of the fact that she was being hypnotized, and therefore in 
Sally's power, that she did the deed by means of a letter, 
copying the method and the exact words I once employed 
to overcome insomnia in Miss Beauchamp. The letter ran 
as follows : 

" Tell M. P. to chase himself, Becky,^ and, as you read, 
slowly, slowly, your lids grow heavy — they droop, droop, droop ; 
you 're going, going, gone." 

When B IV opened the letter and read it, she promptly 
went into an hypnotic trance. This effect of this written 
suggestion I had the opportunity, though unintentionally, 
of corroborating. Wishing to record the letter with my 
notes, I read it into the phonograph in Miss Beauchamp's 
presence. As she heard the words, the expression of her 
face changed, her lids drooped, and she went again into a 
half-hypnotic state. 

To hypnotize thus either of the other personalities was 
too dangerous a power to leave in Sally's hands, so of 
course Sally came in for a good drubbing for her behavior 
and never to my knowledge tried her hypnotic power 
again. But meanwhile IV was much perturbed at finding 

1 Becky Sharp, oue of Sally's nickuames for IV. 


the battle going against her and herself in Sally's power, 
and as usual the final result was mental agitation, headache, 
and insomnia. 

It was at the end of the investigation into these goings 
on and the various psychical phenomena manifested that 
there were witnessed some very amusing hallucinations in 
IV induced by Sally. But more important from the j)oint 
of view of guardianship, my authority became endangered 
and I found myself engaged in a battle for control; for 
Sally, having defeated IV, turned her guns upon me. It 
was evident that either Sally or I must be master. If I 
gave in, my authority was at an end. 

It came about in this wise. I had endeavored to change 
IV into B II, but could obtain only the hypnotic state 
B I V a,^ evidently prevented by Sally, whose hand was ap- 
parent from certain characteristic manifestations. It ended 
in Sally's coming instead of B II, and I proceeded to lec- 
ture her on her conduct ; but while in the act of doing so 
she cleverly escaped by changing herself back again to IV. 
To this personality an attempt was made to explain the 

" Sally has been behaving very badly," I began. 

IV repeated the sentence as she heard it, the woidsj 
being transformed into others having an opposite meaning. 

" Sally has been behaving heautifullyy 

" No," I said, " badly r 

" Yes," she repeated, " beautifully.'''' 

" No, no ; badly r 

" Yes, beautifully.^^ 

" No ; badly, not beautifully ^ 

" Yes, I understand ; beautifully^ beautifully ^ 

Thus for the moment I was circumvented. It was in 
vain that I sought to make her hear the word " badly." 
It became apparent tliat Sally twisted in her mind every- 

1 Chapter XXVII. 


thing that I said so as to give it an opposite meaning. 
She became deaf to certain words (negative hallucinations) 
and heard in their places other words of a different signifi- 
cation. Everything that was said in criticism of Sally 
she heard and understood in Sally's praise ; she even said 
repeatedly that she liked Sally, had no fault to find with 
her, was reconciled to her, was perfectly satisfied with her, 
and so on. Finally she ended by refusing to obey, assert- 
ing that she was her own mistress, would go where she 
pleased, and do as she pleased. This, too, was plainly the 
V^work of Sally, who had taken possession of her tongue. 
But most dramatic was the assertion of her own personality 
in the midst of these sentences. Every now and then, 
like one pursued by an invisible demon, and as if momen- 
tarily she had broken away from the power that bound her, 
she would exclaim, " Don't let me speak like that I " and 
then the next instant she would give utterance to Sally's 

It was impossible to make her understand anything de- 
rogatory to Sally, or even the directions I gave for her own 
guidance. However, I was not to be beaten so easily. 
Sally, as already told, had often been defeated by being 
hypnotized with mock ether. It occurred to me that pos- 
sibly I could produce the same effect on Sally while she 
was still a subconsciousness ; that is, while B II was present. 
My scheme was to hypnotize B II and at the same time 
hypnotize Sally as a co-consciousness, by the suggestion 
that both were being etherized. Accoixiingly, Sally not 
suspecting the ruse, I obtained B II, and then, after a 
suggestion or two, I went through the form of shaking a 
bottle of suppositious ether, pouring it on some cotton, and 
holding it to her nose in a professional way. At the same 
time I repeatedly gave the suggestion, "This will etherize 
Sally. Sally is now feeling the ether," etc. At first there 
was a struggle, then her muscles became relaxed, her 


breathing deep, and she was in an apparent deep narcosis. 
I was now able to give my instructions, which were re- 
ceived without resistance or perversion ; but more impor- 
tant was the fact that Sally was completely beaten. It 
was a moral and physical victory. Later, when Sally 
awoke, she admitted defeat, and that she had been " ether- 
ized " and " squeezed ; " that is to say, her will overcome. 
Her word of honor was given that she would write no more 
letters, would not interfere with B IV, would not hypno- 
tize or tease her, — in short, would leave her alone. In ful- 
filment of this promise the next day a letter arrived which 
laid bare the inmost thoughts of her own soul, as well as 
those of Miss Beauchamp as Sally knew them. I give 
only an abstract: 

["February 5, 1900."] 
[From Sally.] "... You really are mistaken in fancying 
that I am jealous of any one, excepting occasionally of Miss 
C. I hate B I, not because of Mrs. X.'s feeling for her, but 
because of hers. She [B I] loves her so much more devotedly 
and reverently than I ever can with all my willing. I am not 
jealous of her — how could I be ? — but I envy her. I envy 
her. She is infinitely beyond me — always — even in her pain 
and suffering. . . ." 

[Signed with real initials of Miss Beauchamp.] 

"P. S. Please believe that I want to help you, and don't 
be cross with me again. I don't want you to be ever." 

The following shows the acuteness of Sally's mind in 
both observing and interpreting : — 

[February 8, 1900. From Sally.] "If Becky has really 
reformed, why don't you make her write out some more things ? 
For instance, the visions are presumably common to both her 
and B I. That is, B I remembers all that she herself has, and 
all that B IV has. B IV romembers her own, and we all be- 
lieve that she remembers B Ts too. But if she does remember 


B I's, why is it that she insists that she has never had but one 

vision concerning ? Do you believe it? ... Is this a 

sensible note?" 

[True initials signed.] 
" Dicky says what I got Saturday is B n." 

The instability of B IV is brought out by the varying 
moods which she would exhibit from day to day. One 
day she would appear contrite and reasonable, ready to co- 
operate and to do her part to bring about a synthesis of the 
dissociated mental states, and thereby effect a cure. Then 
the next day all would be changed. She would present 
herself as an nngry, belligerent, unyielding, and uncompro- 
mising foe, and perhaps after having thrown into the fire 
the records of herself which she had laboriously written as 
a contribution to this study. 

Sometimes the exciting cause of this change of mood 
would be found to be an emotion of anxiety or fear which 
had welled up into her consciousness from out of the no- 
where, and was unconnected with any specific idea, but 
which could be traced to a similar emotion in the mind of 
B I, but aroused therein by some specific idea. As already 
pointed out,i though in B I and B IV there was a dissocia- 
tion of experiences and of memories, the associated emotions 
were common to both personalities. Emotion is one of the 
most potent factors in producing disintegration ; and so in 
this case an emotion of a depressing, anxious, or startling 
kind was one of the most common influences in producing 
instability and change of personality. 

Per contra, we shall see when we come to study the 
neurasthenic state, and the methods by which the Real 
Miss Beauchamp was prevented from relapsing into her 
previous disintegrated states, that the induction of an ex- 
alting emotion was the most powerful agent in maintaining 
a state of integration and of mental and bodily stability. 

» Page 298. 


The induction of joy, of the emotion of well-being, of the 
excitement that goes with present pleasure and expecta- 
tion of happiness produced a stability that resisted in a 
remarkable degree the disintegrating influences of a de- 
pressing environment. No better illustration could be had 
of the psychological law: "States of Pleasure are con- 
comitant with an increase and states of Pain with an 
abatement of some or all of the vital functions." ^ 

The striking difference between the psychology of emo- 
tions and that of ideas is worth noting. B IV and B I 
had amnesia for practically all the ideas and sensory ex- 
periences of each other, but the emotions awakened by such 
ideas and experiences were often retained, and were more 
or less common to both. 

A perusal of the extensive records which were kept 
would make clear the peculiar instability of the disin- 
tegrated personality, the constant conflicts which in con- 
sequence were going on, and the difficulties offered in the 
management of the case. 

1 Bain's Mental Science 



NOT the least interesting of the many psychological 
phenomena of this case were the dreams. The case 
is unique in one respect. Ordinarily, our knowledge of 
the contents of our dreams and of their relation to our 
environment is limited to our ability to recollect them upon 
awaking, and to inferences as to their origin, duration, etc. 
But in the case of Miss Beauchamp, one of the family 
(Sally), according to her own statement, was awake a large 
part of the night, while the main personality was sleeping, 
and therefore^ conscious of the dreams that went on, 
just as she was conscious of Miss Beauchamp's thoughts 
during the day. She therefore knew when a dream began 
and when it ended, knew it in its entirety and often was 
able to connect it with its origin, external or internal. 

The accounts which Sally has given me of the dream 
life of Miss Beauchamp contain, I think, some facts of 
value as well as of interest. They corroborate the theory 
that long and elaborate dreams may occupy a long or a 
short time between their beginning and ending. If what 
is true of Miss Beauchamp is true of the rest of us, what 
we remember as our dreams is but a small fraction of our 
psychological activity when asleep. 

" I don't exactly understand what you mean by dreams," 
said Sally. " Miss Beauchamp's mind is ' going,' off and 

1 Sally insists upon this as a fact, claiming indeed never to sleep ; at any 
rate Sally remembered dreams and other nocturnal experiences of which the 
primary personality had no recollection whatsoever. 


on, all night long. She imagines then all sorts of things. 
Some of the things that she thinks [that is, dreams] she re- 
members when she wakes up, and some she doesn't. If 
she remembers them, you call them dreams, and the others 
you don't. I don't see why all the other things she thinks 
are not just as much dreams as what she remembers." 

As to the amount of psychological activity that goes on 
during sleep, Sally made a statement which is of some 
interest from a psycho-physiological point of view. How 
far the evidence of her testimony, admitting that she 
correctly describes Miss Beauchamp's consciousness, is 
applicable to normal people is a question needing further 
investigation. It is probable that Miss Beauchamp's sleep- 
ing consciousness exhibits a very great exaggeration of 
what goes on in the minds of ordinary people during sleep ; 
but even so, this very exaggeration, if corroborated by other 
observations, serves to bring out into relief the nature of 
dream processes and to show their relation to the personal 
consciousness. I am afraid it will be difficult to make 
Sally's statement intelligible without entering in great 
detail into the question of secondary subconscious states 
and thus anticipating what has been reserved as a problem 
for investigation in Part III. By secondary subconscious 
states, I mean not Sally's consciousness but those subcon- 
scious states which are supposed to form a part of the 
conscious experiences of normal people, — the true secon- 
dary consciousness. These include the sensory experiences 
which at one moment we are conscious of, and one moment 
not ; which at one moment are synthesized with the personal 
consciousness, and one moment are left out of the synthesis, 
but wliich though left out still persist as secondary percep- 
tions. The extent to which such conscious perceptions 
are present in normal people I pass by entirely for the pres- 
ent, until we shall be able to discuss the Avhole subject with 
all the data in hand. 


In order to explain dreams Sally took up this subject of 
secondary conscious states as follows, without, I have every 
reason to believe, having previously had any knowledge of 
psychological doctrines : 

"When you are writing out anything, when you are 
writing as you are now, for example [takmg notes], you 
seem to think that the only thing you see is the thing you 
are writing. Well, it is n't so. You see and you know a 
great many more things. You see things out here and 
out there [referring to peripheral vision], and you hear 
the music which is now being played in the street, and 
you feel lots of things — the wind blowing through the 
windows, and the sounds in the house, and all sorts of 
things like that. Now while you are thinking of what you 
are writing these things go througli your mind as images 
or sort of impressions. Some of them are not quite clear, 
but they are all there. They are not connected thoughts, 
but each makes its own image or impression, or sensation 
as the case may be. They are disconnected from one 
another. All this is going on all the time." ^ 

Now these images or impressions, of which Miss B is 
not conscious, make up what Sally calls a second con- 
sciousness, which she has always called CXI. (This is the 
CII to which Sally refers in her autobiography .2) It 
should be here stated that I made numerous experimental 
observations on the existence of such secondary conscious 
states in the Real Miss Beauchamp, and the results cor- 
roborated this statement so far as it goes. 

Sally, after further elaborating the above statement with 
many details of the content of this secondary subconscious- 
ness, made use of it to explain dreams. According to her ob- 
servations, dreams are for the most part made up of ideas 

* In writing Sally's explanation I supplied the technical words, but always 
after she had assented to their use as expressing her meaning. 
9 Page 371. 


belonging to this secondary consciousness, although memo- 
rial images from any past conscious experiences may by 
association be woven into them. What is going on in the 
daytime is going on all the time during sleep at night. 
" It never stops the whole night long. The sounds from 
outside, the touch of the bed-clothes, the draughts of air, 
make sensory images or impressions in the same way as 
in the daytime." These weave themselves into dreams, 
but they also recall memories of what she has seen and 
heard and read, in fact, everything that she has ever been 
conscious of, so that in this way they arouse connected 
dreams. Wlien she is asleep, she hears every sound just as 
when she is awake and is listening. ^ That is, the secondary 
consciousness hears. It feels the bed-clothes. The sensa- 
tions sometimes give her horrible dreams. For instance, 
they sometimes make her feel as if she were smothering. 

^ This would explain the recognition and differentiation by a sleeping per- 
son of sounds, as the recognition by a mother of the cry of her child, or by a 
wife of the sounds of her husband's footsteps. The so-called premonitions 
through dreams would iu some instances at least find an explanation iu these 
facts. If the secondary consciousness has knowledge not possessed by the 
primary self, and if dreaming is done mainly by the secondary consciousness, 
then plainly a dream would convey information which would seem supernor- 
mal to tiie primary self. Suppose the second consciousness overheard a re- 
mark, or read in the newspapers by peripheral vision the news of some one's 
illness whicli was unknown to the primary self, then this fact coming out in 
a dream would seem miraculous. Indeed, Sally positively asserts that some- 
times the images of words in the newspaper, for example, are seen by Miss 
Beauchamp out of the corners of her eyes while she is reading with cen- 
tral vision, and afterwards these peripheral images, of which she personally 
is not conscious, may come out in dreams. The peripheral vision, how- 
ever, is limited and consists of a mere image of the printed words without 
any "meaning" (associated ideas?) being attached to it. Later the meaning 
becomes attached. By this, perhaps, is meant that in dreams the symbol 
recalls the ideas which are symbolized by the word. For herself, too, Sally 
claims, that while B I is concentrating her mind on central vision, she, 
Sally, need not pay attention to that, but cau concentrate her own mind on 
peripheral vision and recognize things in the periphery. In test observations 
Sally has frequently described to me objects seen out of the corners of the 
eyes (peripheral vision), although BI or B IV was entirely oblivious of 
having seen them. 


and then that brings up things she has read, that is, bits 
of different things. 

Some of these ideas she remembers after waking, and 
then calls them dreams. (Hence it is that Sally thinks it 
most illogical " to call dreaming only what one remembers, 
because the same thing is going on all the time. If you 
call one thing dreams why should n't you call the other 
dreams ? " To Sally, who remembered the whole di-eam, 
remembering a part of it was an inconsequential fact.) 

Sally's statement, that she never slept, was difficult to 
prove or disprove, though the fact is unlikely, and it is 
probable that she is unaware of the lapse of time during 
which she sleeps. The conditions did not permit nocturnal 
observation, but there can be no doubt Sally herself be- 
lieved her claim. More important is the question whether 
Sally is awake at all while the principal personalities slept. 
There is reason to believe that she was, or that some part 
of her was, a portion of the time at least. An analogous 
phenomenon which I personally observed has a bearing on 
the question : it was the persistence of Sally while B IV 
was so deeply etherized that she was unable to speak or 
move and was apparently unconscious. A good large 
quantity of ether was used. During this stage of etheri- 
zation Sally gave prearranged signals, and afterwards 
remembered some nursery rhjones which I recited to her as 
a test of consciousness, it having been previously agreed 
that she was to repeat after coming out of the ether what 
I had said (see reference to " Hickory, dickory, dock," 
etc., in letter, Appendix O). On carrying the etherization 
still deeper the signals ceased. A possible fallacy in such 
experiments lies in the difficulty of distinguishing between 
unconsciousness from ether, and hypnotic sleep, the latter 
as the effect of suggestion. 

The phenomenon of a dissociated consciousness, con- 
tinuing in activity while the primary consciousness sleeps, 


has been noted before. In the case of Anna Winsor, re- 
ported by Dr. Ira Barrows, it was observed that she was 
asleep while the secondary consciousness, nicknamed " Old 
Stump," was awake and performed many of its most strik- 
ing feats. " Old Stump " was believed never to sleep. 
During sleep the hand, taken possession of by this dis- 
sociated state, not only wrote but conversed by signs, 
watched over the sleeper, summoned the nurse by rapping 
on the bedstead, and showed every sign of independent 

If it were safe to generalize from the evidence of Sally 
in a particular instance like this, which, of course, is not the 
case, we should have to conclude that our minds must be 
in more or less constant activity during sleep ; and that we 
are ignorant of the fact because for the greater part of the 
ideation there is amnesia on awaking. We recollect but 
a small part as our dreams. In this respect, the condi- 
tions are comparable to what occurs during and after hyp- 
nosis, trances, somnambulistic states, etc. Though those 
states are characterized by continuous mental activity, we 
fail to remember our thoughts afterward. It is improb- 
able that in a normal person the ideation during sleep is 
as extensive as is the case with Miss Beauchamp, and 
hysterics generally ; but it is quite likely that the flora of 
our dreams is much richer than we have any idea of. 

Sally's statement regarding the time of origin and per- 
sistence of some dreams corroborates a generally accepted 
theory of psychology, namely, that very long dreams may 
occur at the moment only of waking up, and yet seem to 
the dreamer to have occurred during sleep. But, accord- 
ing to this testimony, it is not solely at such moments that 
these dreams occur : B I and B IV, according to Sally, had 
two different kinds of dreams ; those that occurred during 
sleep, and those that occurred only at the moment of wak- 
ing up, and either might be very long or short in content. 


First, of the dreams occurring during sleep, some, though 

very long in content, might occupy a very brief moment of 

time. She had, indeed, known very long dreams to occur 

p even while the clock was striking.^ On the contrary, a 

^ dream very short in content might occupy a long period of 

^^ Second, at the moment of waking up, a very long dream 

might occur, which might give the impression to Miss 
j Beauchamp that she had had a dream during sleep. 

^ It sometimes happens that Miss Beauchamp wakes up 

^ frequently during the night, and at each moment of wak- 

rS ing has a long dream which is continuous in content 
r ^ with the dream that she had at the moment of waking 
y from the previous period of sleep. These are apt to be 

>• ' nightmares. Miss Beauchamp erroneously classes these 
continuous but successive dreams with those which occur 
f? during the sleeping period. 

^ As to the origin of dreams, one curious and interesting 

p statement which Sally makes is that Miss Beauchamp 

r" sometimes has dreams about what Sally is thinking of at 

^ the moment — Miss Beauchamp being, of course, asleep 

^- at the time — just as occasionally while awake Sally's 

* ""■ thought comes into her mind. On such occasions Miss 
Beauchamp is surprised at having some irrelevant or in- 
congruous thought thrust without apparent reason into 
her logical processes. 

This interaction of the different consciousnesses is not 
surprising, but is what one would expect. The surprising 
thing is that this interaction occurs so rarely. The mem- 
ory flashes coming from B I's mental life into that of B IV, 
or vice versa have already been discussed; this thrusting 


1 Note Sally's recognition of the clock's striking while Miss Beauchamp is 
dreaming. As Sally had no knowledge of time, the only way of measuring 
her time periods is by the time occupied by some event, such as the striking 
of the clock, or the act of waking np. 


of Sally's thoughts into B I's consciousness (without pre- 
vious " mind-fixing ") is perhaps of the same order. 

To return to the question whether Sally persists as 
a waking consciousness during the periods of Miss 
Beauchamp's sleep; it was difficult to prove or dis- 
prove this. There is no inherent impossibility in the 
claim. For after all, dreams are dissociated conscious 
states ; they represent a persisting consciousness, persist- 
ing during the sleep of the remainder of the pereonal 
consciousness. Now dreams would differ from Sally's 
consciousness only in the greater organization or system- 
atization of the latter's conscious states. If one group can 
persist in activity, there is no psychological impossibility 
in the other's enjoying a similar activity. In Sally's case 
perhaps the answer depends upon the extent of the field 
of subconsciousness which persists during sleep, and 
whether this field is sufficiently large to be entitled to 
be regarded as Sally. All the motor centres surely sleep, 
for Sally cannot move. Is what remains, if any, simply a 
limited group of subconscious states, or a personal self? 
This question must for the present remain unanswered. 

However, wishing to have all the evidence that might 
be obtained from her own testimony, I got her at a later 
period to write out an account of her own thoughts and 
perceptions, and Miss Beauchamp's dreams, during sevenil 
nights while Miss Beauchamp slept. They are curiously 
interesting, and warrant, I think, the recoids of two nights 
being given here. They are interpolated with a running 
fire of Sally's comments and philosophy and answers to 
B IV's criticisms. Sally used to write a pai-agraph or 
two at a time. Then B IV coming would read and com- 
ment aloud on Sally's production. Sally then would reply 
to the criticism, as appears in the text, interpolating her re- 
ply in the midst of her account. Each account is given just 


as she wrote it. Those comments which form " asides " are 
printed between brackets in italics. C. (Christine) is used 
by Sally generally to designate a self which was a compos- 
ite of B I and B IV, and which at this later period had 
been experimentally created. This C. had the memories of 
both I and IV. Sometimes, however, Sally speaks of B I 
as C. The distinction is not always clear, for when Sally 
spoke of Miss Beauchamp in connection with events prior 
to the hospital catastrophe of 1893 she always called her 
C. but she rarely gave the initial or name to B IV. In 
other words, C, in Sally's mind, was more intimately asso- 
ciated with the original Miss Beauchamp. 

None of the other personalities had any remembrance of 
the events described by Sally as occurring while they slept. 

April 10th, 1902. " Last night, B IV, after undressing and 
bathing, sat gazing into space for a long time. Then she got 
up and said, ' Good-night, Sally dear, you 're anotlier janitor,* 
I'm afraid,' and went to bed. Before she slept [B] I came. 
[B] I wondered what time it was — if she had seen you — if 
Mrs. Y.'s book had been returned — if I had been rude — if 
I had scrubbed her properly before getting into bed — why her 
photograph of Mrs. X. had disappeared, etc., etc., etc. It 
would take too long to write it all. She got up, saw that it 
was after eleven, but began bathing, nevertheless, and in the 
midst of it changed to [B] IV, who of course accused me at 
once of teasing her and went back to bed again, awfully cross. 
She fell asleep almost immediately this time and slept for 
hours. Part of the time she was very restless, — does that 
matter? — dreaming of London, running about there, you 
know. What you call dreaming, or at least what C. calls 
dreaming, is very curious. I don't see why you leave out so 
much if it 's one thing, or why you put in so much if it 's 
another. During this first sleep of C.'s there were students 

1 Jeanneton, a character in an old French book. Thi.s name, understood 
by Sally as janitor, hurt her feelings. " I am not a janitor," she protested. 
" A janitor is a person who makes the furnace fire and does that kind of 


going home, and trains and carriages passing, and once — this 
is really true — a man, walking very unsteadily, stopped be- 
neath the window, and called, ' Molly, Molly.' No one an- 
swered for a minute, and he began to cry — really — and 
mumble. Then he turned to go back, but Molly had heard 
him and came running. She had clicky heels, and a horrid 
voice — not like his — and there was another man with her, 
following behind. Molly said, ' George, was n't I good! I 
knew you way off there ! ' Then George mumbled some more, 
and she kissed him terribly, and they all three went off to- 
gether. C. didn't wake up — wouldn't wake up — though I 
wanted awfully to see them and tried to come." 

April 10th, 1902. [Letter to M. P.] " You must answer 
all my questions, please, no matter where you find them. 
B IV did call me another janitor, although she says now she 
did n't, and pretends to be terribly amused over it. I think 
/ ought to be amused instead of IV, for it was an extremely 
silly thing for her to say — utterly without meaning." 

Another night: " Last night B IV was very much disturbed 
over something, and kept walking up and down for a long time 
after she was all ready for bed. I did not know at the time what 
was troubling her, but I got it afterward, as you will see. The 
first time she stayed in bed only a few minutes, getting up then 
to take another sponge bath and tie her head up with haraamelis 
cloths. I came while she was doing this, but I did n't finish it 
for her because it would n't have been any use if I had ; she 
always does things over after [B] I and me. I watcbed the 
people on the street instead, and wished I was out with them. 
It is so strange that other people are always much more inter- 
esting than C. Perhaps they are n't if you come to really truly 
know them, as I know her. Because they think she is — [IV 
says I have omitted some things here, — that I hid the hamamelis 
bottle and tore her goivn. I did n't. I put the bottle in the draioer 
and covered it up so that it should n't get spilled, and the goivn tore 
itself when I was trying to curl up by the rvindotv] — awfully in- 
teresting. B I came while I was watching and meditating, and 
felt her head to see if it ached, and it did n't / IV was only 


pretending again.^ [IV says this is silly ; that one does n't have 
to feel one's head to find whether it aches or not. I didn't mean 
just that. You see when C^ came I was sitting on her gown by 
the window, and the hamamelis cloths were tied on her arm so 
that they should n't get lost, and she thought at once that she must 
have had a headache, or some other sort of an ache, and she felt 
herself to see. And there was nothing, so she unfastened the 
bandages, ^mt on her gown, and went to bed — as I wrote before.] 
[B] I was tired ttiough, and after praying, ' Keep him, dear God, 
for Christ's sake — always — and forgive me ! ' a very queer 
prayer, for it did n't begin or end as it should, and it is n't in 
the prayer-l)ook, she kissed F. L.'s picture and went to bed.^ 
But not to sleep. IV came again, scolding, ' O my head, my 
head ! Sally, you 're a little beast. Why can't you let things 
alone ! O my head, my head ! What in the world did you put 
that light out for? You knew I had n't finished. ^IV says you 
don't want any prayers in an account like this, and that if I 
think it absolutely necessary for C.'s reputation to /)?<i one in 
I'd better substitute one from the prayer-hook. But C. did n't 
say one from the prayer-book. She said exactly what I hare 
written, and it was a prayer, for it was said on her knees 
and in jtist the same way as at church. Of course if you 
don't ivant it in I can drop it easily enough. Some nights she 
says nicer ones, like other j^^ople.] 'Where's the bottle? Jf 
I step on it I shall scream. You little, little beast ! ' Then she 
scrambled out, nursing her head (which did n't ache, you know), 
lighted the gas, sponged herself all over for the third time, tied 
the hamamelis cloths on, and went to bed. This time she slept, 
but very restlessly. I think she was not quiet more — [IV says 
that I know nothing about whether her head ached or not, and 
that I've carefully omitted all mention of her long search for the 
bottle, and also of the difficulty her torn gown caused her. Well, 
•perhaps I don't know, but at any rate when C* herself came and 

1 That is, IV had tied np her head to fool Sally. 

2 That is, B I. 

8 IV never says any prayers, prayer-book ones or any others. (Footnote 
by Sally.) 

* Tlie composite self, B I + B IV, above referred to, who had the mem- 
ories of both B I and B IV. 


remembered all about IV she remembered it that way^ and I 
know C.'s thoughts. And as for the bottle and her gown, I 
did n't mention them because I did nH consider them important 
enough. I can of course tell how IV turned everything upside 
down in the room in her search, and how she left things upside 
down for O. the next morning to put back. And I can tell too 
about how cross she got because in putting on her gown after her 
bath her arm got caught in the tear. She pulled it off furiously, 
threw it on the floor, and got into bed luithout it. I hope IV will 
find this quite clear noio] — than a minute, and that in the very 
beginning, while she was asleep. There was a great deal of 
noise in the street, people passing, and carriages, with occa- 
sionally an automobile, but it was not that which made her rest- 
less. It was the memory of her conversation with N. in the 
afternoon. She dreamed that N. was a butterfly, she [IV] one 
wing — \_IV says this is all nonsense — that there is n't a sirigle 
thing to prove that the afternoon's conversation had disturbed her, 
and that the dream is probably pure invention. It is n't non- 
sense, and although it would take a lot of writing to prove what 
I have said, yet it can be done, and later shall be. As for the 
dream, what would be the use of my inventing things when her 
thoughts do it for me? Besides, tvhether IV remembers this 
dream or not, C. does, and would recognize it even in this 
cut-short form. All the dreams I may as well say are very 
briefly sketched in this account. It would take too long to write 
them out fully — as they really were — and. I cannot see that it 
would be of any use'] — a queer composite growth the other 
wing. She [IV, as the wing] was diseased, ought to be cut off 
— yet the cutting off would cripple N. So she struggled and 
kicked — literally — while it tried to fly, and the other wing 
kept changing in color and composition. 

" She dreamed of being pursued by a huge cat, much larger 
than herself, which finally sprang upon her and tore open her 
breast. [/F says, ' Interesting, if true,' and it was interesting 
because you remember she had left her gown in a little heap on the 
floor, and the bandages had come off, and her hair, teas flying. 
And it is true, because I was there and not sleeping and knew 
all about it. I suppose she will be cross again now, but I can't 
help it. When she says some things like, ' Really, Sally dear, 



how very interesting / How delightful ! How sweet of you ! ' 
— things that sound nice if you repeat them, but which you know 
are horrid — it makes me frantic. ] 

" She dreamed of being lost in London — surrounded by a mob 
of the dreadful women there, who held her and forced her to 
listen to their vile talk. 

" Then she dreamed of being dead, and in a coffin lined with 
hands which tried to clutch at her. Suddenly they all doubled 
up aud seemed to be watching. C. wondered, but was so tired 
struggling to get away from them — \_IV says my notions of 
anatomy are mixed, or else my English is, and that what J have 
written gives the impression that the hands ivere watching. That 
is exactly the impression I want to give. They were watching, 
in C.'s dream. And IV knows that in dreams there are often 
much more curious things than that. I 'm not making this up or 
writing for fun'\ — that she leaned back, in her dream, on her 
brain, which was her pillow, to rest a minute. But the pillow 
moved — long freably worms wriggled out of it, covering her 
from head to foot, and she screamed with terror. When she 
tried to escape the worms, the hands clutched her. When she 
would avoid the hands, the worms went through and through 
her. Finally she awoke as C, whole, shuddering and cold, 
though — [^freably ' is n't a word, IV says. That does n't mat- 
ter, if I choose to use it. When I say that she screamed with 
terror 1 mean that she dreamed she did. She really only made 
funny little gasping noises that one could hardly hear. Some- 
times she does scream, and that makes her wake up, terribly 
frightened] — simply dripping with perspiration. For a long 
time she could not pull herself together, but when she did she 
remembered everything, just as if she had been properly hyp- 
notized in the afternoon. That is, she remembered all she had 
done and said and thought as [B] I and IV ; she did not re- 
member anything about me because that is not possible. I am 
different, and all that I do concerns just me. [^IV says it is ab- 
surd for me to make such a statement as this — that the facts do 
not bear me out, and consequently it would be better to omit this 
part altogether ; that I am only a face [phase], and a passing 
one. She added something more to this criticism yesterday, but 
as I don't understand what she means I 'm going to ignore it. 


" Dr. Prince says she means '•phase ' of her disease. It is 
true that two or three times she has in some siieaky way gotten 
hold of things that I've done and said, but never very correctly, 
and [B\ I never has done it at all. Sometime I 'm going to write 
out all that I think about this. Because, even if she were able to 
get a great deal, and get it exactly true, it woxdd n't follow that I 
am a part of her. Why, I get things belonging to [^] / and IV 
when both are dead, that is, things they knoiv, like algebra ; of 
course I know everything they do. It is hard, and I don't like 
to do it much, for it makes me all squeezed. Dr. Hodgson said 
I could n't do it, so I did it. As I am always alive, it ought to 
he loads easier for IV to get things from me. But she must get 
them in the same way that she would from J. or S. or X, Y, Z, 
and I think I know how to do that, although it will be very hard to 
tell how.'] It was through her [C] remembering when she awoke 
that I learned what had been troubling B IV in the evening, 
and why she was restless and pretended things. It was be- 
cause she does n't want to be a woman, because women are self- 
ish and lay too much emphasis upon small things, and keep 
men from accomplishing their work in life — \^This is weak all 
through, IV says. She thinks that as I did not know at the time 
what ivas troubling her and as I have said that I did not, all this 
rigmarole (I don't know how to spell it, but that is ivhat she said) 
should be excluded. She says her [C.'s] memory has been shown 
to be inaccurate repeatedly. Of course if she insists upon it, this 
can be cut out. I did not know at the time what was troubling her, 
and C.'s put-together-memory has been rather jumbly sometimes, 
hut not lately ; that is, she [C] could not reconcile the memories 
and feelings of[B] land IV. They were contradictory. Lately 
it has been all right for [B] I, and I think if IV were to stick to 
the truth, as she tells me to do, she ivould confess that it was her 
conscience and not her head that gave her so much pain that 
night. IV really misses the record I used to keep of Iter sins.] 
And because she had helped X, for whom she did not care, and 
could not help Y, whom she loved very much. And because Z 
was selfish, and inconsiderate, and exacting, making life very 
hard for Y. And because she could never be cured, . . . [IV 
says that X, Y, Z are delightfully mysterious, and that she 
wonders how I came to know them. They are n't mysterious 


the least hit. Of course, you Jcnow, those are n't their real 
names. I just put them that way to make it more interest- 
ing, and because you must n't ever give names when you say 
things about j^^ople — it is n't a yiice thing to do — but if IV 
really truly wants to know who they are, I'll tell her.] It was 
twenty minutes after two when C. looked at her watch, but 
for all this part of the night I have chosen to record as dreams 
only those thoughts which hung together. The others, as far 
as I can make out, are not considered dreams. I do not 
know what you do call them. When I write my willing book I 
will try to find some name for them. [IV says to please be exact 
here, and state just how many trains of thought, sets of dreams, 
etc., were going on at once. That is n't necessary ; it is all going 
into my willing book. Besides, there are n't ' sets ' of dreams, 
and ' trains ' of thought, at night, for ' sets ' means two or three, 
and ' train ' means together, and the night is n't like that if C. 
is sleeping — of course if she is aivake it is different.] 

" As for myself, during this time I thought of heaps of things, 
but none of them were dream thoughts, for I never had a dream. 
Sometimes, when Dr. Prince makes me keep my eyes shut, and 
says that I can't open them, it makes me feel very queer, for I 
know I can, only that he is willing harder. [IV says this is very 
i-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g about Dr. Prince, but 7've crossed it all out for 
the present. I don't wish to talk about it, becaxise when you tell 
things some people always remember them — and then they make 
you do things so that you wish you had n't told, but yoxi never can 
go back again to the time when they did n't knoio. I learned this 
myself since I got my eyes opened. Of course there are some 
who forget, and telling them about things does n't matter, but Dr. 
Prince is n't like that.] As when people tell you to do things you 
do not wish to do you look . . . (Unfinished.) 

" I thought mostly of the things I would like to do if I could. 
When some men who were quarrelling passed, I thought of them 
for a long while, and envied them, for it was very late — [This 
would be much more interesting, IV says, if I would write out my 
thoughts, as I have attempted to icrite hers, and state whether it 
was the idea of a scrimmage which filled me with envy. No, it 
was n't. I do not like scrimmages. But I envied the men their 
freedom, and their clothes, and their ability to do as they wished. 


That was all. As for my thoughts . . . (Unfinished)] — and they 
had the street to themselves. And when C. was dreaming about 
the coffin I wondered if there could be, as Dr. H. said, some 
part, some corner of her mind which I did not know about, for 
the dream had in it something of what I had thought and re- 
membered while X was explaining about the Egyptian mummy 
images in the afternoon. It is very curious, and two or three 
times before I have been troubled by it. C. got up then and 
read until about four o'clock, because she was almost afraid to 
go to sleep again, but she did go, and slept until after six. She 
dreamed a great deal, but her dreaming was of a different kind 
— not distressing. She dreamed of being at Sorrento with J., 
and of living there day after day, waiting for some one, 

and the some one proved to be , who had been exiled for 

some reason, and had come there to live because he loved J. 
and her. And she dreamed of living at home, and of watching 
for the sunrise on her knees in the empty room there — as she 
used to do — but not wearily, exultantly." . . . [For Sally's 
accounts of other nights, see Appendix K.] 

[Received April 24 from Sally.] " I must talk to you. 
Don't you want six nights written out now? Nice ones, with 
dreams and all ? If C. is n't ill she can't stay in bed and 
neglect everything — can she ? / must talk to you, but Friday 
will do. I 'm out of bed now, and it 's not so bad. C.'s really 
herself now — her old self — although she has things rather 
amazingly twisted. Perhaps they '11 come straight later. Don't 
make me help her, please. I 'm not sure she 's any better 
than [B] I." 

The main point of interest at present about these dreams 
is whether they throw any light on the problem of multiple 
pei-sonality, and, more particularly, on the question of the 
relations of B I and B IV to the real self. 

Now B I and B IV, of course, used to sleep, and to 
sleep meant, as Hamlet said, to dream. Did each have 
her own individual dream, of which the other had no 
memory, or were all dreams common to both ? In the 


former case it meant that the division of consciousness 
and corresponding cerebral disintegration persisted during 
sleep ; in the latter case, that during sleep the two person- 
alities reverted to a common consciousness. These latter 
findings, too, would be in harmony with the hypothesis 
that neither B I nor B IV was the real self. 

On the other hand, if there was only one set of dreams 
and that was remembered by only one personality, say B 
IV, the implication would be that this personality was 
approximately the real self, and that the other was only a 
somnambulistic condition. 

Now, as a matter of fact, as a result of the inquiry into 
dreams, it transpired that however distinct and separate 
was the ideation of B I and B IV during the waking 
state, during sleep these personalities reverted to a common 
consciousness and became one and the same. That is to 
say, the dreams were common to both : each, B I and B IV, 
had the same dreams, and each remembered them afterward 
as her own. The logical consequence of this was that the 
dreams might have their origin in the waking experiences 
of either B I or B IV. If in those of B I, then B IV 
on waking, though remembering the dream, would have no 
idea of its source ; and vice versa. For instance, the dream 
might be of a person seen in the street by B I, B IV 
would then fail to recognize the origin of the dream person, 
though B I would do so. 

The fact that Sally knows B IV's dreams also indicates 
that B I and B IV revert to a common consciousness, 
which is probably the real self asleep. Of course, all Sally 
knows is that B IV, of whose thoughts she is ignorant, 
falls asleep and then begins to dream ; when she begins to 
dream, she (Sally) knows her thoughts. 

The dreams of B I and B IV are also those of B II. 
Ask B II what her dream of last night was, and you will 
find that it is the same in every particular as that of B I 


and B IV. So that all these personalities become one, so 
far as their thoughts are concerned, when they are asleep. 
It IS when they wake that they become differentiated. 
This all harmonizes with the hypothesis that B II may be 
the real self hypnotized. And yet the experiment of wak- 
ing B II had been a failure. 





ON February 16, 1900, the following ecstatic letter was 
received from poor Miss Beauchamp, telling of the 
great joy that had come into her life because, as she 
believed, she was cured at last: 

"I want you," the letter ran, "to be the very first to hear 
my glad tidings of peace and joy. They have come to me at 
last, after all these years of unrest and suffering, come despite 
my impatience and unbelief, despite my little faith, my much 
sinning. Aren't you glad for me? — very, very glad? But I 
know that you are. You have been so good, so patient always. 
I cannot thank you. Words are all too poor for that, even 
though they would come at my bidding, but I shall never, never 
forget you nor what you have done for me. And if I have 
made things very hard for you, especially during this last year, 
I beg that you will forgive me now." 

I had been prepared for this announcement by an inter- 
view the previous afternoon with Sally, who, in a state of 
discontent, had come to air her woes. The family, Sally 
said, was kicking up didoes, and she wasn't going to 
stand it, and that was all there was to it. B I thought 
herself cured and was trying to get into a convent; B IV 
had taken half the contents of a two-ounces bottle of lau- 
danum, but it had made her sick and she had vomited, 
which was perhaps what saved her life. Sally did not 
understand the meaning of it because not only did she not 
know B IV's thoughts, but "IV was not that kind of a 


person." As to B I's going into a convent, Sally was dis- 
gusted at the idea; it was perfectly absurd, she insisted, 
for Miss Beauchamp was not fitted for it; nevertheless 
Miss Beauchamp was making her preparations, and was 
trying to bring the matter about. Evidently, underlying 
Sally's views of fitness was the fear that possibly she her- 
self might be shut up in a convent, a life not to her liking. 

Here was a new tangle into which the family was getting 
and which required to be straightened out. So I de- 
spatched a letter to each of the senior members separately, j 
asking for an interview.^ 

B I arrived in a state of mind different from any in 
which she had ever appeared. She was in a high state of 
mental exhilaration, because, as she averred, she was cured 
at last. All her symptoms had vanished, and she experi- 
enced a feeling of well-being and physical health. She 
believed herself well. No letters had been received of 
late from Sally, and from this she inferred that that lady 
had disappeared for good. (She did not know that, for a 
wonder, Sally had kept her promise not to write such let- 
ters.) To be sure, she had slight i-elapses when she "lost 
time," as she admitted. But these periods were of short 
duration, and she did not consider them of importance. 
She plainly interpreted every event through her dominant 
idea of physical, if not spiritual, "conversion." She 
thought she was more like her old self, as she had been 
before this trouble came upon her, and was supremely 
happy. She was also highly excited over the scheme of 
joining the Catholic Church, and going into a convent. 
The recovery of her health would allow her to follow a 
religious life in accordance with her ideals. Besides the 
religious satisfaction which a convent promised, it would 
solve the problem of the practical difficulties of her present 
life. She argued, very logically, that she was not fit to 

^ Sally arranged that each should get her own letter. 


take care of herself. She might, under the strains of life, 
have new attacks of her trouble, and here, at last, was a 
haven of rest, a life serene and congenial to her ideals and 
tastes. She was plainly in a state of exaltation. Al- 
though she had not slept for more than an hour a night 
for several nights, nevertheless she was not a bit tired, 
although under ordinary circumstances she would have 
been a physical wreck. 

Her happiness would have been delightful to look upon, 
had it not been that it was an abnormal condition, and one 
that could not last. Psychologically, this new mental 
condition was interesting, as it afforded an opportunity to 
observe an example of that state of exaltation into which 
notoriously so many religious enthusiasts have fallen when 
the feeling of a new spiritual life has been awakened in 
them. At such moments, under the influence of a domi- 
nating idea which has surged up perhaps from somewhere 
within them, or has been suggested by their own conscious 
thoughts, they have been filled with a strong emotion of 
joyousness, and have interpreted their relations to their 
environment, to the world, and to God, in accordance with 
this imperative idea, often to the extent of creating hallu- 
cinations and illusions which to them appear as super- 
natural communications. 

Inquiry into the origin of Miss Beauchamp's belief 
proved an interesting study, throwing light as it did upon 
the psychological mechanism of those sudden miraculous 
conversions which have played so important a part in 
religious history. An account of how Miss Beauclmmp's 
ecstatic belief was brought about was obtained from B I a 
and B II. 

B I a, who, it will be remembered, is simply Miss Beau- 
champ hypnotized, stated that B I in a condition of hope- 
less despair had betaken herself to church, thinking that 
through self-communing and prayer she might find some 


way out of her difficulties. What particularly distressed 
B I was her transformation into Sally, who seemed to be 
absorbing more and more of her life, and the feeling that 
sooner or later she herself would become too great a tax 
upon the patience and care of her friends. What, she 
asked herself, would become of her when thrown upon her 
own resources. The church was empty, and, as she com- 
muned with herself, her feeling of self-despair and hope- 
lessness deepened. Then^ of a sudden^ all was changed^ 
without her kno^ving how or why. She became filled with a 
great emotion of joyousness and of well-being; a "great 
load seemed to be lifted from her;" she felt "as light as 
air." A great feeling of peace, of restfulness, and happi- 
ness came over her. She felt well and believed herself 
well. With these emotions came religious memories, 
memories of her own experiences and of religious visions 
which she had had a long time ago. She remembered, for 
instance, visions of the Madonna and of Christ and scenes 
of a religious character (Appendix L). Her cure seemed 
miraculous, and she felt and believed that she had had a 
Visitation. Under the influence of these exalted religious 
feelings the idea naturally came to her of entering a con- 
vent. The life appealed to her and she thought that the 
freedom from care and anxiety which it offered would solve 
the problem of her own life, and that she would remain 
well. This was all the light that B I a could throw upon 
the change in Miss Beauchamp's condition. She was able 
to state the facts, but was unable to explain by what psy- 
chological process the transformation had been suddenly 
made from the state of hopeless depression to that of 
religious exaltation and happiness. The complete expla- 
nation was obtained from B II. 

There was a gap in B la^s knowledge^ that is, between 
the ending of the depressed state and the inrusliing of the 
exalted state. This gap B II was able to fill. (This 


hypnotic personality clearly recognized Miss Beauchamp's 
condition as purely one of ecstasy, indeed so clearly that 
she analyzed her mental condition for me. The point is 
worth noting that Miss Beauchamp hypnotized into B 11 
became a perfectly rational person who recognized the 
previous quasi-delirium of herself.) B IFs account of 
the origin of Miss Beauchamp's ecstasy was very precise 
and as follows: 

While Miss Beauchamp was communing with herself, 
her eyes became fixed upon one of the shining brass lamps 
in the church. She went into an hypnotic, or trance-like 
state, of which neither Miss Beauchamp nor B I a has any 
memory. In this hypnotic state her consciousness was 
made up of a great many disconnected memories, each 
memory being accompanied by emotion. There were 
memories of religious experiences connected with her own 
life and other memories of a religious character; and these 
memories were accompanied by the emotions which they 
had originally evoked. There were also memories of her 
early life, memories of happy times when she had been 
well ; these memories also were associated with the emo- 
tions which she had at the time experienced. For instance, 
to take a few specific illustrations and tabulate them with 
the accompanying emotion : 


of a scene at , a view of of well being ; peacef illness, 

the sea with the light of the and happiness. 

setting sun playing upon the 


of walking with a friend near of peacefulness and rest, 
the same place and conversing. 

of driving in the country with of peacefulness and rest, 
same friend. 

[The above were all real incidents of her girlhood.] 



of different visions of Christ of exaltation, of lightness of 

and the saints. [All or most body, of mental relief, peace- 

of these she had had at differ- fulness, and joyousness. 
ent times in the past.] 

of a vision of herself shut up of restfulness, happiness, light- 
in a dungeon. ness of body. 

of music which she had heard [Not the usual emotional thrills 
in a church. of music, but] of lightness of 

body and great joy. 

There was no logical connection between these memories 
— all were jumbled and without order, but the accompany- 
ing emotions were very strong. 

After a short time Miss Beauchamp awoke, and on 
waking all the memories which made up the consciousness 
of the hypnotic state were forgotten. At first her mind 
was a blank so far as logical ideas were concerned. She 
thought of nothing definite, though soon ideas rapidly 
flitted through her mind, and yet she was filled with 
emotions. They were the same emotions which belonged to 
the different memories of the hypnotic state. These emotions 
persisted.^ They were of lightness of body,^ of physical 
restfulness, and well-being, besides those of exaltation, 
joyousness, and peace, largely of a religious nature. It 
is probable, reasoning from analogous phenomena that I 

1 We have already seen examples of this persistence of the emotion be- 
longing to a dissociated state after the subject has changed to another state. 
That is, the emotions of B IV were often felt by B I, and vice versa. When 
we come to study the subconscious state, or the secondary consciousness, we 
shall find that it is made up of disconnected memories and emotions, and that 
tlie latter may be common to both the primary and the secondary conscious- 
ness. I frequently made use of this principle for tlierapeutic purpo-tses, that 
is, creating in B II emotions of well-being. When she awoke the same 
feelings persisted in the waking state though everything said and done dur- 
ing hypnosis was forgotten. 

^ Lightness of body may possibly be, strictly speaking, a sensation rather 
than an emotion, and yet it is probably a complex feeling, and so interwoven 
with emotion that it may for practical purposes be regarded as an emotion. 


have witnessed, there were subconsciously present a number 
of disconnected images, or memories, — remnants of those 
which had been experienced in the trance state, and asso- 
ciated with the emotions (p. 298). Presently ideas began 
to come into her mind. The emotions were now accom- 
panied by a lot of ideas and memories of religious expe- 
riences, those which B I a had described. It is significant 
that these ideas were not those originally associated with 
the emotions in hypnosis, but newly suggested ideas. At 
least they appear to have been suggested by the emotions. 
She felt well and believed herself cured at last. 

Naturally, as Miss Beauchamp did not know what 
occurred during the time-gap when she was in the trance- 
like state, she thought that the sudden change in her 
mental condition and physical health was miraculous and 
was due to a "Visitation." The idea of a convent life 
logically followed her religious exaltation. 

Before discussing further the psychological mechanism 
of Miss Beauchamp's "ecstasy" I should like to point out 
the striking psychological similarity between her experi- 
ence and that of M. Alphonse Ratisbonne, whose case 
William James quotes in a chapter on Conversion in his 
very interesting lectures on "The Varieties of Religious 
Experience." For several days Ratisbonne had been 
unable to banish from his mind the words of a prayer 
given him by a proselytizing friend, and the night before 
the crisis had had a sort of religious nightmare. Then 
after entering a church some kind of a psychical accident 
happened; all the surroundings vanished and the crisis 

It would seem clear from Ratisbonne's own account 

that he must have gone into a trance in the church at 

the moment when "the dog had disappeared, the whole 

church had vanished," and he "no longer saw anything" 

1 See Appendix M. 


about him, and that he had a religious vision accompanied 
by ecstatic emotions. At any rate, he went into a state 
which was abnormal, and presumably identical with the 
state into which Miss Beauchamp fell, except that it was 
followed by partial memory, that is, of the vision of the 
Virgin. I would say here, parenthetically, that any one 
who has had experience in catechising persons who are the 
subjects of psychoses must feel great scepticism about ac- 
cepting their statements of their psychological experiences 
without subjecting them to a very critical examination. 
Such subjects generally describe their exj)eriences under 
the dominating belief of their own interpretation. A 
searching cross-examination will generally bring out la- 
cunae in either their memories or statements, and numerous 
additional facts which put an entirely different interpre- 
tation upon the phenomena. 

Thus Miss Beauchamp exhibited a hiatus in her memory 
and was unable to give a complete account of what hap- 
pened in the church. To obtain such a complete history it 
was necessary to resort to hypnosis, and even the hypnotic 
state, B I a, knew only a part of the mental facts. It was 
necessary to obtain a larger hypnotic state, B II, to obtain 
a complete memory of what had taken place in the sub- 
ject's consciousness. Similarly the mere statements of 
people who have experienced " convei*sion " can scarcely 
be regarded as sufficient to determine tlie psychological 
processes involved. An examination under hypnosis in 
most cases probably would bring out all the details of 
the process. The mental condition of the subject in such 
supreme moments is summed up by James as follows: 

" It is natural that those who personally have traversed such 
an experience should carry away a feeling of its being a miracle 
rather than a natural process. Voices are often heard, lights 
seen, or visions witnessed; automatic motor phenomena occur; 
and it always seems, after the surrender of the personal will, as 


if an extraneous higher power had flooded in and taken posses- 
sion. Moreover the sense of renovation, safety, cleanness, 
lightness, can be so marvellous and jubilant as well to warrant 
one's belief in a radically new substantial nature." ^ 

James's theory explains " the phenomena as partly due 
to explicitly conscious processes of thought and will, but 
as due largely also to the subconscious incubation and 
maturing of motives deposited by the experiences of life. 
When ripe, the results hatch out, or burst into flower. "^ 

According to this theory there is a gradual growth of 
ideas which have been dissociated at some previous time 
from the primary consciousness, and when these subcon- 
scious thoughts reach a certain development they burst 
into the field of the waking self. It is possible that this 
may be the mechanism of the processes in certain minds, 
particularly those of the hysterical type, in which a sub- 
consciousness is readily formed, but the weak point in 
the theory is that no positive evidence has thus far been 
brought forward that there is such a large doubling of 
normal minds; and even in hysterical minds, though the 
theory may well be true, it still lacks, as does that of 
Sidis, experimental verification. I am inclined to think 
that when sufficient data have been collected to explain 
completely the psychological process, it will be found that, 
though the subconscious plays a part, James's theory needs 
considerable modification. It will be noticed in B I that 
the process resulting in the state of ecstasy was quite dif- 
ferent. In her case there was no incubation or floAvering 
of subconscious ideas ; it was simply that the emotions of 
the trance state persisted after waking as a state of exalta- 
tion, and of themselves, through their naturally associated 
ideas, suggested the beliefs which took possession of her 

1 The Varieties of Religious Experience, p. 238. 

2 Ibid., p. 230. Sidis (" Psychology of Suggestion ") earlier expressed the 
view that the phenoinensi manifested in religious revivals are due to dissocia- 
tion of consciousness and sugorestions to the subconscious. 


mind. So I think it will probably be found that the part 
played in other cases by the subconscious mind consists in 
furnishing emotions (which primarily belong to its discon- 
nected memories), rather than logical ideas. 

The fact that in times of sudden conversion voices are 
often heard, lights seen, visions witnessed, etc., together 
with an overpowering emotion, is evidence that these 
people at such moments are not in a stable state of mind, 
but rather, it would seem, in a trance-like or hypnoid con- 
dition, or whatever name we may choose to call it by. In 
this state a complete recognition of the surroundings may 
be lost, and the subject is dominated by hallucinatory 
ideas and emotions. 

There is no difference fundamentally between such a 
state and certain so-called hysterical states which quite 
commonly are observed following emotional shocks. The 
emotional factor in producing the hysterical state is gen- 
erally of a startling or terrorizing character, and hence 
this state is frequently observed as the onset of traumatic 
neuroses, which are most commonly caused by terrifying 
accidents like railway collisions. Or, the emotion may be 
simply part of an intense apprehension or idea of danger, 
or it may be simply the sequence of a startling piece of 
news, such as would shock the natural feelings of affection, 
or awaken intense jealousy, etc. Thus, Fanny S. was 
thrown into such a condition on hearing the news of an 
accident to a relative who had been hit by a passing 
railroad train, though the injury was not serious; and 
Mary H. went into a similar condition when it was an- 
nounced to her that her husband had eloped with another 
woman. After waking there may be complete, partial, or 
no amnesia, but in any event the ideas belonging to the 
crisis with their emotions, like fear of fire, or of disease, 
or of danger of one form or another, ma}^ persist or recur 
subconsciously, and there from time to time enter tlie per- 



sonal consciousness; or the personal consciousness may 
be continuously conscious of the emotions without being 
aware of their exact source or meaning. In the latter 
case, the sufferer may be the constant prey of depressing 
fears — true obsessions. In all such psychoses the emo- 
tional element causing the split in the normal integration 
of the mind is of a distressing character. 

But it may be that effects psychologically similar may be 
produced by powerful ecstatic emotions which the religious 
imagination calls forth. The development of such exalt- 
ing emotions becomes easier when preceded by the mental 
strain ordinarily induced by the doubts, fears, and anxie- 
ties, which go with the intense introspection which relig- 
ious scruples call forth. Torn and distracted by doubt, 
the personality is easily disintegrated, and then the ecstatic 
emotions associated with religious hopes and longings take 
root. At this crucial moment the subject, like St. Paul 
when he heard the voice of Christ, perhaps half oblivious 
of his surroundings, sees visions which are apt to be the 
expression of his new belief, and hears a voice which 
speaks his own previous thoughts. On coming out of this 
hysteroid, or hypnoid, state the exalting emotions persist, 
along with an incomplete, or possibly complete, memory of 
all that took place in the hysteroid state. These emotions 
then give an entirely new shape and trend to the individual 
ideas, just as the distressing emotions following hysteri- 
cal accidents determine the form of the mental content. 
Psychologically, the ecstatic state following is as much 
an obsession as is one in which fixed depressive feare are 
dominant. I think that it will be found that in sudden 
conversions of the type we are considering, this is sub- 
stantially the psychology of the matter, and that the 
succeeding mental state of ecstasy is conditional on the 
development of a hysterical state at the onset, as it plainly 
was in the case of Ratisbonne. 


The analysis of a large number of cases made at the time 
of the crisis is essential for a proper study and understand- 
ing of the phenomenon. The memory of a person who 
narrates his experience afterwards is unreliable, as he noto- 
riously may be the victim of amnesia, and it is unsafe to 
trust statements purporting to give the psychical state of 
the subject at a moment when he was under intense emo- 
tional excitement. If it was the fact that he went into a 
trance state, he probably, like B I, would be unaware of it. 
Such personal accounts, too, are always written from a 
religious and not from a psychological point of view. It 
is to be hoped that at some time in the future a psychol- 
ogist may have the opportunity to examine critically a 
number of such cases at first hand, and particularly by the 
hypnotic method. It is probable that this method will 
bring out facts now scarcely suspected. 



AFTER solving the problem of B I's ecstasy, I brought 
Sally, who was in high spirits, notwithstanding the 
fact, which she admitted, that she was herself disappear- 
ing, going back to whence she came. She was being 
locked up again in the subterranean vaults of the con- 
sciousness of Miss Beauchamp, and was " deader now than 
any one of the family." She did n't like it, and she did n't 
W'ant to go into a convent, and she "wasn't going to, 
either." Then Sally became very naughty, and said a lot 
of impertinent things, largely as an outlet of jealousy, 
putting a childlike construction on various things she had 
heard. But the fit did not last long, for that evening she 
wrote a repentant letter, of which the following is an 
abstract. I wish I could give the letter in its entirety, as 
it shows the sweet side of her character, but it would not 
be fair to her. 

"I am so sorry," she wrote. " I was perfectly horrid this 
afternoon, but now I am all repentant and I want to listen." 
Then she goes on to describe her own point of view. " I can- 
not bear," the letter continued, " to think of going off under 
Papa Leo's wing, never seeing anybody again. ... I can't do 
it. Dr. Prince, I can't and I won't, ... I don't want any 
nasty old priestly man. I hate them all ! Are n't you the 
least bit sorry for me ? . . . Because I have behaved badly to 
you I am going to take B I to the cathedral thing to divert her 
mind. You like that, don't you? . . . Do poodles have morals 
too? Isn't there any place free from them? I don't want 


tbem, nor anything but . . . and I can't see why it should be 
wrong . . . but, right or wrong, I don't care. Please forgive 
me again . . . and let me stay. Please, please, please." 

The following letters from IV and Sally illustrate the 
way in which one got into hot water in consequence of an 
inconvenient change at the wrong moment. Sally, owing 
to her childish ignorance of worldly wisdom, had misinter- 
preted the meaning of something said by "Jones," and 
had quoted him accordingly. When afterward Sally told 
" Jones " how she had quoted him he naturally was 
annoyed, and charged her with a message correcting his 
reported statement; but just as he was delivering himself 
Sally changed to IV and got the message, which was 
entirely unintelligible to her and not flattering to her 
vanity, as it referred to her worldly ignorance as Sally. 
(It is, naturally, impossible for either B I or IV completely 
to realize her character as it is portrayed by her subcon- 
sciousness.) IV's letter runs as follows: 

"Thanks for your note, which I hoped to acknowledge per- 
sonally on Friday, but could not because of an urgent sum- 
mons elsewhere — to Mars or Saturn, I think, from which I 
have but just returned. You do uot consider laudanum experi- 
ments interesting? Neither do I now. But they might have 
been, you know, and at any rate I am loads wiser than before. 
Which reminds me that one thing I am particularly charged to 
say to you had better be said now. It is in connection with 
my wisdom — or rather lack of it — through which it seems I' 
have been misrepresenting J. He regrets exceedingly that it 
is not possible for him to appear personally in the matter, but 
wants you to know that he never made, nor dreamed of mak- 
ing, any such statements as I credited him with. He also says 
further that he is sure you will agree with him in absolving me 
from all evil intent, as it arose from my ' almost incredible 
ignorance concerning certain things, an ignorance which by this 
time you must be quite as conscious of as he is.' Delightfully 


flattering, isn't it? But I promised you should have the mes- 
sage as he gave it. 

" I have not accomplished anything this morning, nor have I 
finished the accounts you asked me to write out. I know what 
you will say — that I have not really tried — but it is not true, 
and you, wonder-worker, should know that it is n't. I have 
tried and I shall keep on trying to the end ; if not with you, 
then with some one else. Yet I hope with you. 

" I shall come Wednesday, unless you write me to the con- 
trary. If you do, please drop the IV. It is so absurd. 

" Monday. 

" Don't you think the odds are tremendously against me in 
this attempt to conquer Sally ? " 

Here is Sally's letter of February 20, 1900, on the same 
subject. These letters bring out the contrast between the 
two personalities: 

" I must write this in the greatest haste, but I want you to 
know that I did n't tell her anything — really. She got the 
message because J. was so anxious to be quoted correctly that 
he repeated it again after she came. I 'm so sorry ! 1 can't 
seem to keep out of hot water with any one except Dicky, . . . 
He wants me to write him now, and IV is simply raging about 
it. She will probably tell you when you see her, unless she is 
in one of her proud fits, I cannot understand her. She is the 
most puzzling, contradictory creature I ever saw. I want to 
tell you about J. tomorrow, and about Dicky's letters and ex- 
periments. You are dear to pardon all my offences, but I 
knew you would. B I is still in the clouds, and still fancies 
herself cured. She 's doing all sorts of things so that IV and 
myself are awfully squeezed. We don't have any time, nor 
amusement, nor anything that we want, but IV keeps on fight- 
ing just the same. She simply won't give in. It is amusing, 
and sometimes I rather like her. She snubs D most un- 
mercifully when he tries to assume a protecting air. He is n't 
so scientific now." 


Only a few days passed before there was more trouble. 
Sally had not only appropriated again most of IV's 
money, but had spent it and put the latter on a short 
allowance of a few cents a day; in addition to this IV 
had discovered that Sally had accepted a present of 
money from some acquaintance, presumably Anna. IV 
was much annoyed in consequence of the false position in 
which she was placed. Unwilling that Sally, much more 
herself, should accept a gift from this source, IV insisted 
that the money should be paid back. I pass by all this 
and the troubles it led to, as well as what appeared to be a 
surreptitious attempt on the part of Anna to induce Sally 
to secure possession of the "Autobiography." 

I was, of course, called in to bring Sally to account and 
to rectify affairs. In desperation, IV had prepared an 
ultimatum,^ which, if Sally and Sally's friends did not 
accept, she proposed to put into effect. It provided that 
all communication between Sally and her friends, Anna 
and Jones, was to cease, there were to be " no more non- 
sense letters, no more appeals to me, no interference with 
her mail, with money, with papers, with clothes." Sally 
was to have a fixed allowance of money each week, a cer- 
tain stated time to herself for certain purposes, and she was 
to finish the autobiography immediately. Full authority 
was given to myself and one other person to take action in 
IV's affairs if Anna and Jones did not give up all com- 
munication with Sally ; and if Sally on her part persisted 
in going on in the way she was doing, she, Sally (which, 
of course, included the family) was to be locked up in 
an asylum. It mattered not that IV would necessarily be 
locked up too. She was in earnest now, her blood was 
up. Whatever the consequences to herself, Sally must be 

1 I have a rough draft of this ultimatum in my possession. 


The following was received from Sally the day after IV 
disclosed her woes and wrote her ultimatum: 

"Are you going to send me away too and never, never let 

me see you again ? I have n't been bad enough for that, have I ? 
really and truly bad? wicked? I did not mean to be. I can't 
bear to have you cross with me ! I can't ! It 's worse than 
everything else. Oh, so much worse. B I is good, isn't she? 

" Will you talk to her? . . .I'm sending you what IV has 
been scribbling, because it 's psychological and I thought you 'd 
like it. Please say you are glad. I want you to be always 
glad. Some day you will be old, won't you? very, very old I 
mean, and not be able to do things — the things that you wish 
for now. And tell me, will it be soon or on some far, far day .-' 
I want to know. 

" Sincerely and entirely, 

" Your repentant, 

" S. B. 

" Friday." 

A day or two later IV had what must be accounted a 
very remarkable experience in what the ancients would 
have called demoniac possession, and which to-day we 
are familiar with in minor forms as subconscious mental 
action. I am certain that in Biblical, and perhaps in early 
Salem days, when they hung witches, if a person exhibited 
the peculiar manifestations which I am going to relate she 
would have been considered to be literally possessed by 
the devil (I hope Sally will not take offence if her eyes 
ever rest on this), and perhaps would have been burned at 
the stake if the devil (or Sally) could not be otherwise cast 

This is what happened, substantially in B IV's own 
words as I took them down : 

B IV, in a depressed, despondent, rather angry frame 
of mind, was looking at herself in the mirror. She was 
combing her hair, and at the time thinking deeply over 


the interview she had just had with me in regard to \ 
her ultimatum to Sally. Suddenly she saw, notwithstand- ' 
ing the seriousness of her thoughts, a curious, laughing 
expression — a regular diabolical smile — come over her 
face. It was not her own expression, but one that she had 
never seen before. It seemed to her devilish, diabolical, 
and uncanny, entirely out of keeping with her thoughts. 
(This expression I recognized from the description to be 
the peculiar smile of Sally, which I had often seen upon 
the face of B I or B IV.) IV had a feeling of horror 
come over her at what she saw. She seemed to recognize 
it as the expression of the thing that possessed her. She 
saw herself as another person in the mirror and was fright- 
ened by the extraordinary character of the expression. 
(Here she broke off her story to ask if it was possible to 
see oneself as another person in this way. ) It suddenly 
occurred to her to talk to this "thing," to this "other 
pei"son," in the mirror; to put questions to "it." So she 
began, but she got no answer. Then she realized that the 
method was absurd, and that it was impossible for her to 
speak and answer at the same time. Thereupon she sug- 
gested to the "thing" that it should write answers to her 
questions. Accordingly, placing some paper before her on 
the bureau and taking a pencil in her hand, she addressed 
herself to the face in the glass. Presently her hand began 
to write, answering the questions that were asked, while 
B IV, excited, curious, wild for information of the past, 
kept up a running fire of comment on the answers of 
Sally, for, of course, the "thing" was Sally. 

The following is a partial record of the questions and 
answers written out, with comments by B IV from the 
original, which I have: 

First, questions, to which no answer is given; then 
speech setting forth Sally Beauchamp's responsibility for 
the face [in the mirror] and threatening laudanum, etc., 


unless questions are answered immediately. Still no re- 
sponse — then pencil and paper. 

(Who are you ?) ^ 

A spirit. 

(Stuff! Tell the truth. Why did I forget?) 

Forget what ? 

(From Providence. What happened then ? What does 
it all mean ?) 

Jones spoke to you and you died. 

(Answer me.) 

I have answered you. Ash Dr. Prince. 

(Why do you dislike Dr. Prince ?) 

1 douH. I like him. Amen. 

(Indeed! How very interesting! Shall I tell him? 

What about A M , then, and why have you been 

gossiping ?) 

IwonH tell you. 

(You will tell me.) 


(You will.) The pencil is pressed down so hard that it 
breaks; then it is flung violently across the room. I feel 
as if I were losing consciousness, but by a great effort I 
hold myself, take another pencil, and repeat : 

(You will.) 

I get nothing, however, for several minutes ; then a lot 
of curving lines, then, 

What do you want to know '? 

(What I said, what Dr. Prince said, what you said.) 

/ woTfCt tell you. 

( ) . 

Only a threat concerning J., which I had not the slight- 
est intention of putting into force. It acted like magic on 
the "spirit," however, and I got the following, written 
very rapidly: 

1 The questions asked by B IV are enclosed in parentheses ; the replies 
written by the hand are printed in italics. 


[Here the "spirit" told the substance of the conversa- 
tion between Sally and Jones, which afterwards was the 
occasion of the latter's reproving Sally and sending the 
message which IV got by mistake through an untimely 
change of personality.] 

. . . When I told Dr. Prince he said, ''''Nonsense, it 
isnH true, and you must have misunderstood Jones.''"' And 
I asked Jones again and you got the message yourself. 

(When did you repeat this stuff ?) 

Ten years ago last Monday. 

(Answer me.) 

/ have ansivered you. Ask Dr. Prince. 

(Why have you dropped Jones and Anna ?) 

You dropped them yourself. 

(Why do you hate me ?) 

The answer to this question was a rude sketch of a girl 
seated by an open lire. It was wholly without suggestion 
as far as I could see. I have received similar ones in the 

(Have you been telling Dicky what I said about him ? 
Don't you know any better?) 


(You have, too. Can you make me hear things ?) 


(You can't. You shall help me to remember them. 
Don't write. Go back, back, way back to Providence 
and Jones, and make me remember everything, everything. 
Do you understand ?) 

I won't do it. You shall not remember. Amen. Amen. 

Again I feel as if losing consciousness, and again I 
exert my will to the very utmost to prevent this. A great 
many things come into my mind as memories, not very 
clearly, however, and not in a sequence. I ask about 
A M as a sort of test and then is written — 

IwonH, IwonH. IwonH. 


Another struggle (mental), then certain things come to 
me ; whether they are true or not, I do not know. I get 
intensely excited, then I remember about the experiment 

connected with A M , which you had wished to 

try in the morning. If . I can get that it will be more 
satisfactory, more convincing, for it can be verified. I 
repeat again certain phrases, mentally, to Sally, with this 
in view, but I get nothing. Then I repeat them, the 
phrases, aloud, and there come to me slowly, not very 
clearly, certain things — those which I wrote you — which 
you said were approximately correct. Then in writing I 

Devil, devil, devil. Amen. You HI he sorry when Pm 
gone. Amen. You don't care. Then a lot of wild scrawl- 
ing lines. 

B IV, further commenting on this experience, writes : 

"I was intensely excited, talked much more than was nec- 
essary, and could not help commenting on everything that was 
written. The writing was very poor, difficult to decipher, and 
spread all over the paper. The whole thing occupied about two 
hours, as nearly as I can judge." 

The fact that the writing was spontaneous, like that 
which I had an opportunitj'^ to personally observe and 
which will be given in the next chapter, deserves to be 
emphasized, because this spontaneity removes it from the 
class of artifacts unwittingly manufactured by the observer. 
B IV, as she testifies, was not in an abstracted state while 
the writing was done, but was alert, conscious of her sur- 
roundings, excited and extremely curious to know what 
the hand was writing. It is to be regretted that she was 
not under observation at the time, — though this would have 
given rise to the suspicion that the doubling of consciousness 
was an artifact, — but I have seen the same feat performed 
under substantially similar conditions. 


Under these conditions of alertness the content of the writ- 
ing indicates that the authorship was that of some sort of a 
self which at the moment was co-conscious and possessed of 
wide memories and of a peculiar individuality. Beginning 
with the smile in the glass, followed by the desire to tease, 
the evidences of dislike, and the knowledge exhibited on 
the part of Sally, we find, running throughout the episode, 
evidences of a very different kind of mentation in the sub- 
conscious self from that peculiar to the primary conscious- 
ness. But besides this difference in quality, the wide 
extent of the field of the subconsciousness, as revealed by 
her replies, is worth noting. A study of Sally's replies 
shows a knowledge of facts, which, from my personal famil- 
iarity with them, there is reason to believe were not known 
by IV. They belonged to Sally's fife or to that of B I, 
The field of subconscious ideas would seem to rival in ex- 
tent what she possesses when present as the dominant con- 
sciousness. There are also evidences of humor, logical 
reasoning, and volition. 

Let us not forget, however, that when automatic phe- 
nomena are obtained while the subject is in a state of deep 
abstraction, as is probably most often the case, they will 
not, from my point of view, bear the interpretation that 
they are wholly the manifestation of a subconscious mind. 
Under such conditions much of this sort of automatism, 
whether in normal or abnormal persons, is only in appear- 
ance a subconscious manifestation. In reality it is in large 
part, if not wholly, due to alternation of conscious states. 
The state of abstraction into which the subject goes is so 
deep that there is little left of the principal consciousness. 
A new personality is formed and this personality is more of 
an alternating than a subconscious one. It does the writ- 
ing while the original personality is reduced to a few auto- 
matic thoughts and actions, like reading aloud. The real 
automatism is that of the distracted, and often blind, deaf, 


dumb, and anesthetic extract of the former self, while the 
second self is a quite awake person. From this point of 
view the following observation of Dr. Janet's belongs to 
this type: 

" She [Mme. B.] was seated at a table and held in her left hand 
the piece of knitting at which she had been working, Her face 
was calm, her eyes looked into space with a certain fixity^ but she 
was not cataleptic, for she was humming a rustic air ; her right 
hand wrote quickly, and, as it were, surreptitiously. I removed 
the paper without her noticing me, and then spoke to her ; she 
turned round wide-awake, but surprised to see me, for in her 
state of distraction she had not noticed my approach. Of the 
letter which she was writing, she knew nothing whatever." ^ 
[Italics are mine.] 

In the case of B IV both sorts of writing have been 
observed, — the purely co-conscious, and the alternating 

1 " Les Actes Inconscients dans le Somnambulisme Psychologique ; " Rev. 
Philosophique, March, 1888. (Translation by Myers.) 



SOMETHING has already been told of Sally's autobiog- 
raphy and of the catastrophe to which it was subjected. 
Some further explanation of the conditions under which it 
was written will make its import clearer. 

In view of Sally's often repeated assertions that she had 
always existed as a separate and independent mind from 
early childhood, it was plainly of psychological interest 
that she should write an autobiography of her own mental 
life. She could therein describe her own relations to her 
environment, and contiust them with those of the primary 
consciousness. An account of this kind, in which the 
two streams of thought, feeling, and emotion, that of the 
primary and that of the " Hidden Self," should be de- 
scribed, so that the two selves could be contrasted, would 
be of value. In it Sally could tell of her own feelings, 
hoj)es, and desires, which she asserted were independent 
and distinct from those of Miss Beauchamp. 

It would necessarily involve an account of the daily and 
petty doings of her Hfe, and even the little secret thoughts 
that fill the recesses of a girl's mind. As Marie Bashkirt- 
seff told every little secret emotion of her soul, so Sally 
would have to tell her own and Miss Beauchamp's, This 
Sally agreed to do and after many difficulties succeeded in 
doing, although she was careful not to disclose the secrets 
of others. Many things she told of which even Miss Beau- 
champ was ignorant, many things she saw which Miss 
Beauchamp did not notice, and many things she heard 


which Miss Beauchamp never heard, for as a dissociated 
consciousness she claimed to see and hear much that did 
not enter the consciousness of the primary self. A good 
deal of this, of course, is too private to put into print. 

The autobiography, then, is a descriptive history of a 
dissociated mind ; but it also gives an introspective record 
of a well-organized secondary mind, of thoughts, feelings, 
emotions, and even of a " will," of which the personality 
whom we call the primary consciousness has no knowledge 
whatsoever, excepting of course so far as she has learned of 
it by the revelations of this study. Putting aside for the 
moment the question of the interpretation of the evidence, 
this record is a descriptive account of the alleged persist- 
ent flow of the two streams of conscious life from child- 
hood to the present time. The subconscious stream has 
often been tapped by other observers, but I believe that 
this is the first occasion where a secondary self has spon- 
taneously attempted to narrate its own subconscious biog- 
raphy. It is highly desirable that such a history should 
be confirmed by the accounts of other cases recorded by 
independent observers, in order that the degree to which 
the doubling of consciousness may take place may be de- 
teimined. This duality, to whatever degree developed, 
whether rudimentary, or well organized as in Miss Beau- 
champ, is one of the most significant facts which modern 
psychology has revealed. 

Miss Beauchamp, the saint that she was, was quite 
willing to put aside all her own feelings and allow Sally to 
write the story of her life, as has already been related. B II, 
also with the same sense of loyalty and a desire to aid those 
who were aiding her, gratefully made the sacrifice of her 

With B IV, however, it was another story. She had no 
sense of duty or self-sacrifice. She felt that every hand 
was against her and she was against every one in turn. 


Sally had dubbed her the " Idiot," and tliis sobriquet she 
thought reflected my early sentiments as well, especially 
as she knew that I disapproved of her ways and had 
sought to change her into another personality. This was 
enough to make her disbelieve all professions of interest 
in her welfare. It was not possible, therefore, to take IV 
into our confidence, since she would certainly do every- 
tliing in her power to thwart us. " IV won't like it," Sally 
would say in warning, but we thought nevertheless that 
her wishes were not of much consequence, for, as Sally said, 
it was probable that she wasn't "real anyway," even if she 
was more than a picture card, as Alice discovered her 
people in Wonderland to be, and if we succeeded in the end 
in changing her to the real one, the views of this somnam- 
bulistic lady would then be past history and belong to the 
land of unreality. It seemed unwise too, as a matter of dis- 
cipline, to consult IV, although she was sure to discover 
what was being done. B IV, then, was not taken into our 
confidence at first. Sally endeavored to write the story 
without IV's knowledge, hiding the manuscript each day 
that IV might not see it. But this could not be very suc- 
cessfully done, for sooner or later Sally would of course 
be sure to change to IV in the midst of her work and then 
the jig would be up. This was in fact what happened. 

IV of course flew into a rage at finding that her private 
life was being WTitten out in cold ink, if not print. She 
bore it for awhile, but finally in fury and rebellion, as al- 
ready narrated, she tore into bits the manuscript when this 
was nearly finished. 

I had been so anxious to obtain this account of INIiss 
Beauchamp's life, that when I saw this evidence of psy- 
chological vandalism I made no effort to restrain my 
indignation, unphilosophical as this may have been. My 
disappointment was too great for me not to be human as 
well as a physician, so B IV, I am afraid, was indignantly 



reproached for her conduct. My discourse, if not just, 
was at any rate effective, for she agreed to allow the work 
to be rewritten, and never again to interfere; and this 
promise she kept, though at first it was in no gracious 
mood that she set about the task, but in an outraged 
spirit of indignation, as of one sentenced to penal punish- 
ment. Later she became largely reconciled, and I think 
was more bored than anything else by the work. At any 
rate, she did it pleasantly enough. It was agreed that an 
attempt should be made to reproduce the manuscript by 
"automatic writing," as Sally claimed to have a much 
better memory while she was a subconsciousness than 
when she was present or awake as the dominant personal- 
ity. So Sally again began the tiisk, making use of the 
hand of IV (or I) just as she carried on the colloquy with 
IV narrated in the last chapter. Several pages were re- 
produced in this way, but it was slow work ; so IV agreed 
to allow Sally to devote a part of each day to the task, — 
Sally to write as the waking personality. Nevertheless 
from time to time some pages were written " auto- 
matically." It is necessary to bear this in mind in order 
to understand the comments of IV and the irrelevant inter- 
jections of Sally which are intei-spersed throughout the 
account and by which it is interrupted from time to time. 

IV used to come to my study for the purpose of allow- 
ing Sally to complete the task. Sitting at the desk, pencil 
in hand, she would wait either for Sally to use her hand to 
write automatically or to be herself transformed into that 
young lady. Often becoming impatient for herother " sub- 
liminal " consciousness to begin, she herself would write 
some remark, generally personal, to Sally, who in reply 
would subconsciously write a pertinent retort, or IV would 
rub out a running fire of sarcastic comments on Sally's 
statements, muttering her criticisms under her breath for 
Sally to hear, — a most effective method for her purpose. 


Or, again, IV would interrupt the account by writing com- 
ments on Sally's work or criticisms on her literary style, a 
matter on which Sally was particularly sensitive ; indeed 
the latter was always quick to resent IV's assumption of 
superior wisdom and learning. IV at times became furious 
at some of the statements, declaring they were not true. 
These for the most part concerned events which occurred 
when IV was not in existence and of which she had no 
knowledge. Some of these interruptions have been pre- 
served and inserted in the text. With this explanation 
they will be understood. Another matter it will be well 
for the reader to keep strongly in mind : it is the dis- 
sociated consciousness which is writing, and therefore it 
is the world as seen by this Self, and the feelings and 
thoughts as experienced by this Self which are described, 
and not the mental experiences of Miss Beauchamp, though 
the external facts were common to both. 

After the autobiography was written I went over it with 
Sally, criticising and questioning some of her statements. 
Her replies, giving further information on certain points, 
are printed as footnotes. 


[The autobiography begins in a somewhat flowery, child- 
ish style with a few brief memories of infancy, wliile she 
was in her cradle. When I refused to accept the accuracy 
of her memory she went on as follows :] 

(Revised for Dr. Prince, who questions the statements 
I have made and thinks I have not been sticking to the 
actual facts. I insist that I liave, that everything I have 
written is fact, and that I do remember the night described 
when I cried for such a long time and some one tried to 
comfort me.) 

I have not succeeded in drawing the bars of the cradle, I 
know, but that is immaterial. I remember the thing itself. 


And the other days and nights too I ^ remember, when real 
and unreal things began to be strangely confused, and 
about learning to walk and talk. It was so hard at first. 
Afterwards I liked it better, for it was " willing," you know, 
— the first that I was conscious of. It was at this time 
too that I was conscious, not exactly of being a different 
person, but of being stronger in purpose, more direct and 
unswerving than I appeared, and of being in a certain 
sense opposed ^ to myself. This feeling was much stronger 
at some times than at others. Why, I do not know. 
Then first began my impatience with C, who instead of 
attending to whatever she might be doing would suffer her- 
self to be distracted by a thousand and one things. For 
instance in walking, just as I would get most interested 
and eager to go on, down she would flop in a heap to study 
her shoes, to gaze at the people in the room, or to play 
with some treasure she had discovered on the floor. Then 
I was conscious both of the child on the surface, so easily 
affected and diverted, and of the other ^ child who was 
yeai-s and years older (I insist I was older) and stronger. 

[Sally, when cross-examined about these statements regard- 
ing the date of the beginning of double consciousness, and 
asked for specific instances, made the following additional 
statement :] 

" She was just a very little girl just learning to walk, and 
kept taking hold of chairs and wanting to go ahead. She 
didn't go ahead, but was all shaking in her feet. I remember 
her thoughts distinctly as separate from mine. Now they are 
long thoughts that go round and round, but tlien they were 
little dashes. Our thoughts then went along the same lines 
because we had the same experiences. Now they are different; 
our interests are different. Then she was interested in walk- 

1 There was uo separation as yet. 

2 Beginning of separation of two consciousnesses. This separation was 
not continuous, but stronger at time.s 

* Myself as a personality distinct from C. 


ing, and I was too, only I was very much more interested, more 
excited, wildly enthusiastic. I remember thinking distinctly 
differently from her; that is, when she tried to walk she would 
be distracted by a chair or a person or a picture or anything, 
but I wanted only to walk. This happened lots of times. 

" Learning to walk was the first experience of separate 
thoughts. I remember before this there was n't anything but 
myself, only one person. I don't know which came first. I 
remember when I was there farther back than she can, and 
therefore why wasn't I the person? 

"I remember lots of little things. When she was a little bit 
of a thing (so small that she could n't walk very well) she had 
visions very often. I did n't, but I was conscious of her hav- 
ing them. Her visions did n't represent real things as they do 
now. I thought they were interesting and enjoyed her having 
them. During all her childhood I remember enjoying many 
of the things she did. She was awfully fond of out-of-door 
things, — climbing, running, etc. I enjoyed them and wanted 
to go farther than she did. Some people she liked I did n't. 
Some people she went to see and talked with I did n't want to 
see, but could n't help it. 

" I suggested things to her sometimes by thinking hard. / 
didn't really do them; she did them, but I enjoyed it. I don't 
know that I made her; I thought about them very hard. I 
did n't deliberately try to make her, but I wanted to do the 
things and occasionally she carried out my thought. Most 
times she did n't when my thoughts were entirely different 
from her own. Sometimes she was punished for doing what I 
wanted ; for example, I did n't like going to school ; I wanted 
to play ' hookey.' I thought it would be awfully exciting be- 
cause the boys did it and were always telling about it. She 
liked going to school. One day she stayed away all day after 
I had been thinking about it for a long time. She did n't want 
to do it, but she did. She was punished and put to bed in a 
dark room, and scolded in school and made to sit on one end 
of the platform ; she was shy and felt conspicuous. 

"I always knew her thoughts; I knew what she was think- 
ing about on the platform. She was thinking partly of being 
penitent and partly of fairy tales, so as not to be conscious of 


the scholars and teacher, and she was hungry. I was chuck- 
ling and thought it amusing. I did not think of anything else 
except that her fairy tales were silly. She believed in fairies, 
that they were real. I did n't and don't. At this time she 

was a little girl. I was, there during all the life with J 

and at College. I never forced her to do things till lately. 

Lots of times when she was a little bit of a thing I was angry 
when she was n't." 

Finally this " double consciousness," ^ or whatever you 
choose to call it, became fixed, and continuous, although 
never reaching C I, or perhaps I should say, never felt as 
C U 

It was only as C II that I felt it, but as C II it did not 
help me very much, for at that time I could not get my 
eyes open.^ I have not expressed this well, I know, for 
in attempting to express it I get hopelessly " squeezed," 
the Idiot appears, and everything vanishes before her 
wrath,3 since she does not approve of me or of Dr. 
Prince, or indeed of any one save Mr. "Teddy Jones," 
an old friend of the family, of whom I shall write more 
fully later. 

In all this time until our first going to school there 
was little of importance that happened. C. was even then 
shy, nervous, and imaginative * — terrified by the appear- 
ance of her father, but woi-shipping, literally worshipping, 
her mother, who did not however care for her and paid her 
slight attention. 

1 That is, C I was not conscious of me, as she is not now. 

2 By this I mean figuratively, not literally ; that is, I cannot be always 
present as the dominant personality. [By C II Sally here means herself, 
B III, not the C II she later mentions, p. 382. — M. P.] 

' That is, she tears up my manuscript. [This refers to the interesting 
psychological fact, that when Sally thought deeply on intellectual subjects 
such as belonged to the primary consciousness .she tended to change to I 
or IV. — M. P.] 

* During all this time my thoughts were different from hers. We thought 
about the same things at the same time, but differently about them. Now we 
think about different things at the same time because my life is different 
from hers and I know things she does n't know. 


(Not to be quoted to C, who will deny it, but it is a fact 
nevertheless, and one which I consider of great importance, 
inasmuch as it has deeply affected her whole life.) 

The first day we were sent to school we ran away, and 
also the second day, so that it was long before we went 
again, but when we did go we stayed. C. liked it im- 
mensely and used to get awfully enthusiastic over her 
lessons and over her teachers, but I never cared for either. 
They were so tiresome and uninteresting. The school life 
and being brought into contact with different people 
changed C. very much. She was happier and not so shy 
and frightened, although at home things were just as bad as 
ever, and we were at home a great deal, for she was often 
ill. Then in the long vacations before J. came we used to 
be awfully lonely, for there was no one to play with, little 
to do, and we did not seem to be especially wanted at 
home. C. used to spend much of her time curled up in the 
garret away from every one, and then she was quite happy 
with her books and day-dreaming and visions,^ but I did 
not care for them, for I knew they were n't true, — they 
never are. T liked much better being out of dooi-s, climbing 
trees, etc., for it was more as if I and C I were " willing " ^ 
and doing it. 

1 Whenever C. had a vision she lost all consciousness of herself and her 
surroundings— not living, as it were, until the vision had j)iussed. This was 
true, I think, in all instances except when she herself seemed to be a part of 
what she saw, and tiien, tiiough equally lost to her real self and her real 
surroundings, she lived, but only in tiie vision. But I was aways conscious, 
both then and now, of the vision projected against tlie reality, and was never 
confused, even for a second. 

2 In saying that I enjoyed such things as climbing trees, etc., I mean that 
doing them seemed to call for stronger " willing," which gave me a certain 
sense of power over C. and at the same time a certain feeling of being one 
with her. Our thoughts were the same except that she was not con.scious of 
my existence. We were both " willing " together tlie same thing. But this 
feeling of unity lasted .'»o short a time — only while we were actually making 
the mental effort required to overcome a physical obstacle. Other things she 
conquered alone, for tliey did not concern me — mental and moral things, I 
mean — I was not interested in them [e. g., lessons, trials, and tribulations]. 


The nights were horrible always, for C. either did not 
sleep at all or if she did she would have the most distress- 
ing dreams,^ usually about her mother — 

(Here the autobiography was interrupted for the day. When 
about to be continued B IV seated herself at the desk, with 
pencil in hand ready to have Sally make use of it to write 
automatically ; she began as usual with a comment, and Sally 
of course retorted.) 

[B TV. " Amanuensis, Sally dear, quite at your service." 
Sally (to B IV). "Pig!"] 

— and these dreams would send her flying from bed 
in perfect terror to listen for her mother's voice. If she 
heai-d it she would be quiet for a time — comforted — but 
if she did not hear it, then would begin one of those dread- 
ful excursions through the house, through the streets, such 
as C. saw in the crystal a few days ago — 

[B IV (to Sally). ''Months, Sally."] 

— and did not recognize. At least I am not sure whether 
she did or did not recognize it, for it was B IV who saw it, 
and B IV never, never tells the truth.^ 

1 I knew they were dreams for the same reason that I have mentioned be- 
fore in speaking of visions, — namely, that I am always conscious of things as 
they are and at the same time am conscious of things as they seem to be 
to C. and although of course the dreams are very different from the visions, 
yet they are equally absurd, and I do not know why C.'s fancying herself in 
dreams running about London should confuse me any more than her fancying 
that she sees London before her in a vision. In both instances I know that 
she is she, that I am I, and that this present is Boston. 

There is a difference between her visions and dreams. In a vision she sees 
tlie S(!cue, even though it includes herself, without any self-consciousness, i. c, 
of her own actual body, though she may have the same feelings that she sees 
expressed by the vision body. It is the same when she sees things in the streets ; 
t. e., she has feelings suggested by the scene. In dreams she takes part in the 
scene and thinks and feels and does ever3-thing just as if she were awake in 
her actual body. I (Sally) never dream now, but when I was a wee little bit 
of a thing and learning to walk, before the double consciousness became fixed 
and when we were one part of the time, then I dreamed or she dreamed, for 
we were one at that particular time. This was in the little black cradle. 

2 [B IV insists that she did recognize the vision-child, but she has seen pic- 
tures of herself at 4-5 years of age. The rest of the scene she probably did 
recognize as the original scene. — M. P.] 


The vision was of a long narrow street, snow on the 
ground, starlight, lots of trees, in the distance two men, 
very fat, half reeling along, and nearer, close to the first 
tree, a little shivering, frightened-looking child ^ with a 
small bundle in her arms — 

[B IV (to Sally). " Provisions, Sally dear ? Do tell me. 
And do, for goodness' sake, ' hump ' yourself. We can't 
spend the summer here." 

(Here entered Dr. Prince : After reading the manuscript, I 
asked the subconscious Sally whether Miss Beauchamp ran 
about awake or as a somnambulist, and also whether the vision 
was true.) 

The hand wrote, " Not somnambulistic," " Open your 
eyes, stupid, I can't see." [B IV had closed her eyes.] 

" Open your eyes, eyes, eyes, 
Open your eyes, I can't see to write." 

Then, " God will punish your levity — I am a spirit. 
You know it is true." 

B IV. " Stuff ! Write sensibly and answer Dr. Prince's 

Dr. p. " Was the vision true ? " 

Sally. " The vision is true, and you know it, and I won't 
write another word." 

(After this inten'uption B IV changed to Sally, who, no 
longer a subconsciousness, went on with the manuscript,)] 

C. was not in a somnambulistic condition at the time of 
the incident seen as a vision. She had wakened in the 
night, and not finding her mother in the house went out in 
search of her, taking with her, not " provisions " as B IV 
suggests, but the old black cat which she had wrapped up 
to keep it warm. I remember it distinctly. The som- 

i C. 


nambulistic things were quite different. She was asleep 
then as a somnambulist — and B 2 went about and B 2 did 
all sorts of curious things different from dreams — differ- 
ent from visions. She usually had her eyes open too.^ 

Although there were many other nights when the same 
thing happened, she never took the cat but twice, and then 
only because she fancied that it was ill, and she did not 
want to leave it alone. 

All this running about at night was the most absurd 
thing, and I mention it simply as showing how differently 
we felt. I was not nervous. I knew that the dream which 
had frightened her so was not true ; that it meant nothing ; 
that wherever mamma might be she would come home 
safely, as she always did ; and that, if we were caught out 
of bed, we should be severely punished. But knowing all 
this did not help me in the least, I had to go in spite of 
it and in spite of my " willing." 

(At this point the " auto " was interrupted for the day. 
And when it was taken up again the next day I came upon 
B IV seated at the desk, pencil in hand, waiting for Sally's 
humor either to go on with the writing automatically, or else 
to come herself and do it ; but the hand had refused to write. 
It had pleased Sally for the moment to do nothing. B IV had 
become impatient, and as usual had occupied the time in writing 
messages to Sally :) 

[B IV to Sally. " It will be for all the week, and Sun- 
day, and start again on Monday, Sally dear, if you fail to 
do what M'sieu requires. 

" This is serious, deadly earnest, too." — " All the king's 
horses and all the king's men cannot help you then." — 
"Come yourself and do it, if you prefer. Come, come, 
come I " — " Do you understand me ? " — " Write yes or 

1 This is all right. " It was B 2 as far as I know. Only there was no 
B IV then, just " she " and I. B 2 I considered " she " asleep. — S. B. 
[This B 2 is not the same as the B II of this study. — M. P.] 


no." — " Write pig, write anything." — "Are you dead?" 
— " Were the scalpels and cupids too much for you, Sally 
carissima? Write, write, write." 

(Here I also became impatient, and wrote the following 

Dr. p. " Now do, Sally, hurry up. I am awfully busy 
and must get this done, so that I can do my work." 

Sally. " Copy it first ; open your eyes." 

B IV. "Copy what?" 

Sally. " You know." 

B IV. "I don't. Everything?" 

Sally. " Yes, everything. Dr. P. said to." 

B IV. " Punctuation, too ? " 

Sally. " Everything, stupid ! " 

B I V. "I am charmed. Don't get stuffy. I wish you 'd 
come yourself. Your constructions are simply barbarous. 
May I correct them?" 

Sally. " No, no, no, no. You let them alone." 

B IV. " This, too ? Next sentence ? " 

Sally. "Yes, this too, next sentence. I wish you'd 
write decently." 

B IV. " If you won't come I am ready to go on again. 
And if you will think ' decently,' I will endeavor to write 
'decently.' Consider the beautiful tombstone you are 
going to have. Bee-yu-ti-ful ! Does n't it inspire you ? " 

Saxly. " You are the most hateful person I ever saw." 

B IV. " Thanks. I don't mind in the least, if you '11 
only write. Let 's begin. 

" You 're a purple cow, Sally dear. Won't you begin ? " 

(No answer and a long silence. 

Here, being appealed to by B IV, I again took a hand and 
interviewed Sally, who wrote in answer to my appeals, " I 
won't, I won't," again and again. 


I directed B IV to close her eyes, whereupon the hand wrote, 
" Open your eyes," objecting every time she closed them. 

Finally, Dr. P. (to Sally). " What do you want? Do you 
want to come ? " 

Sally. "Yes, yes, yes." 

So I brought Sally, who immediately broke out into com- 
plaints against B IV, charging that she bothered her by mak- 
ing all sorts of comments on her writing, and saying under her 
breath all sorts of disagreeable things ; that she criticised 
her construction, her language, and so on. All this rattled her 
badly. Sally was much put out about it all, and very angry 
with rV, whom she abused roundly. Afterwards, when I 
accused IV of this, she excused herself, like a naughty child, 
on the ground that Sally did the same. So it was pretty much 
of a muchness. Each taunted the other unmercifully. The 
seriousness with which each took it was quite comical.)] 

. . . We felt differently about everything, I think, until 
J. came. C.'s whole life, all her thought and action and 
feeling, centred about her mother. She believed that 
God wanted her to save mamma from some dreadful fate, 
and that in order to do this she must, before the day should 
come, have attained a certain ideal state mentally, morally, 
and, I think, spiritually. Everything that came up was 
tested in its relation to this ; she was always fretting about 
it, always dissatisfied with herself, and fancying that she 
fell short (as she did). 

This impossible ideal haunted us day and night — there 
was no escaping it, although I must state, in fairness to C, 
that at that time it was not perfection as an end that 
she strove for, but perfection as a means of attaining some- 
thing else. Now it is different ; she has grown morbid, un- 
reasonable, and most exacting, not only with herself but 
with others, and this, although she no longer believes 
that she is fitting herself for something. I think that 
after so many years she has acquired a habit of thinking 
along certain lines and cannot drop it. People who knqw 


her (B I) would probably say that I am entu-ely wrong 
in stating that she is unreasonable and exacting, but she 
is, nevertheless. Not in the ordinary way, perhaps, — that 
is, not outwardly. But if one believes one's friends to 
have certain qualities — 

(This train of thought was not finished.) 

. . . We grew farther and farther apart in our thought 
and feeling, and finally it was almost as if we had changed 
places again. I hardly know how to explain it better. 
For you know in the beginning I used to be conscious of 
the child on the surface, easily affected and diverted by her 
own thoughts and by all the little happenings about her, 
and of the other child (that's me) years and years older, 
who held steadily to her purpose and was unwilling to be 
diverted by anything. Noiv it had all changed ; although 
I was still conscious of them both, it was the one on the 
surface that was steadfast and unswerving and the other 
(myself) that was interested and attracted by the thousand 
and one things of no particular importance that were pass- 
ing about us. So that as a rule in any given scene or 
incident C. would take in only what might be expressed 
as or the thing itself. C II ^ would be conscious of more 
details, while I would be conscious not only of the thing 
itself with all its details, but also of much beside. So that 
in trying to recall anything, if it comes as a memory C I 
sometimes gets details that were noticed only by C II. 
She never gets any that were noticed only by myself. But 
if the scene or incident is recalled by a vision then she 
does sometimes (not often, I think — I am not sure) get it 
as I saw it, and then slie (I, not IV) says and believes either 
that the vision is not true or true only in part. 

^ I say C II because T do not know how else to express what was in C.'s 
mind as apart from mine and which she was not conscious of at the time, but 
which she remembers when hypnotized. [This C II corresponds to the normal 
subconsciousness. — M. P.] 


[Sally (to B IV, referring to some copying of manu- 
script that Sally was to do). "Didn't do it, did you? 
Amen. Amen."] 

C. was always in hot water then, because she used to go 
mooning about, not knowing half the time what she was 
doing; and, although I knew perfectly well, it was not often 
that I could help her. Now since I got my eyes open I can 
and do help her a great deal by finishing what she is doing 
and writing letters for her and to her for her information. 
Sometimes she is so absentminded she forgets ; then I help 
her out sometimes. Sometimes the only way I can do 
anything is by coming myself, and this kind of help she 
(C.) doesn't appreciate, but she ought to. It is infinitely 
better than the way things used to be when we were grow- 
ing up, and it relieves her of lots of responsibility. I tease 
her too, of course, but not so much now, — not since B IV 
quarrelled with J. and refused to see him again ; because 
it was always things about J. that teased her most. She 
never wanted me to go anywhere with him or even speak 
to him, although she herself has done exactly the same 
things that she complained to Dr. Prince of my doing. 
She used to dress for J. all the time, and once she cut all 
her hair off short for him so that she looked like a curly- 
headed poodle, and afterwards she was going to do it again, 
and would have done it too if Dr. Prince had not shut her 
up in the hospital. The only difference there has ever 
been in our relations with J. except at first (after mamma 
died and he came, I mean), when I did not like him par- 
ticularly, because he was so tiresome and because he did 
such queer things which C. was not conscious of but I 
was, things which people do only when they are cross, 
yet he was never cross with her apparently — 

[B IV. " Such constructions, Sally dear 1 Won't you, 
won't you make them the excuse for sacrificing this 1 Let 
Jones alone. Take me."] 
— The only difference there has been — 


[S. B. " My constructions are perfect, and I don't think 
you agree with me to-day. I prefer Jones." 

B I V. " ' Is that the wind dying,' Sally dear ? " 

Sally. " Bah ! you only threaten."] 
— They used to read together and then — 

[B IV. " I never read with him in my life." 

" You did, B IV, you ^ read to him by the hour when 
you were n't chattering like a magpie. You could n't see 
him then — but I could, and sometimes C II saw him do 
things too, like cross and angry people. That is ,2 you 
half consciously saw him while you were reading and 
talking, without your knowing it, but I did. So that 
one part of your mind read and the other saw J. unknown 
to the first part (I was separate). You were so absorbed 
in the reading, you did not notice what you saw at the 
same time. I call this part that saw, C II. I saw and 
recognized things at such times independently." 

B IV. "Your English pains me, really. Destroy this 
and make some excuse to M'sieu. You know I cannot." 

Sally. " It' s Jones that 's painful, not my Finglish, 
and I 'm afraid he '11 be even more painful before I 've fin- 
ished. I 'm going to tell everything, all about and all 

because it 's interesting psychologically. Amen — 

Amen — " 

BIV. "Stop — stop!" 

Sally. " He did things as if he were cross, lots and 
lots of times. You would n't have known if he 'd been 
standing on his head — you never knew any of the things 

1 ( That is, Miss B. as C.) 

2 The next five sentences in the text are an after elaboration made at 
my suggestion. In illustration of tliis fact that a part of B I's mind saw 
while the other part did not see, Sally mentioned the following incident : 

" Last night B I saw Dr. P ra in the car. She looked at him straight. 

He was sitting opposite, and there was no one else in the car. Slie was think- 
ing of something and was not conscious that she saw Dr. P m, but there 

was something in her that did see and recognize him apart from me. This 
part is what I call C IL" 


that I knew, and you don't now. You are n't real anyway. 
'Teddy' was ju8t the same then that he is now, only 
you were too stupid to see it. And it proves what I said 
before, that you are unreasonable and exacting with people 
because you believe them to be other than what they are 
and then are disappointed and broken-hearted and every- 
thing else because they don't, because they can't, live up to 
your absurd expectations — and I don't believe a woi"d of 
what you say. You haven't got B I's memories. You 
don't know anything about her, you don't. . . ."] 

... I cannot analyze C's absorption, preoccupation, 
whatever it was during all those years that prevented her 
from seeing things as they really were — as I saw them — 
and which got her into such an endless amount of trouble. 
I think there were several reasons for it — 

[To B IV. "If you talk to me any more^ — if you say 
another word I shall tell Dr. Prince." 

(Here B IV twitted Sally with being afraid of Dr. P.) 

" I 'm not. / am not, but I won't have you spoiling 
everything I do." 

B IV (aloud). " What does ' Amen ' mean ? " 
Sally. " It does n't concern you the least little bit in 
the world. — No, I won't ! "J 

— some of which still exist. The chief one of course 
being her fancy about mamma. But there were others too. 
She was dreamy and visionary, as I have said, seeing things 
always rather through her own thought than clearly and 
truly; and at the same time, despite her dreaminess, she 
threw herself with great intensity into whatever she might 
be doing, so tliat in all her relations with J. before I got 
my eyes open she saw him and thought of him in an entirely 
different way from what I did. So with Mrs. X., with 

1 B IV" kept coming and going and talking aloud for Sally to hear as 
yesterday. This refers to B I V's slanging her. 


Dr. P., with nearly every one we knew. There were a few 
people whom we both liked, but even then we liked them 
for different reasons — C. caring for them for what she 
fancied they were, I for what I knew them to be. . . . 

As I said, she used to read to him by the hour think- 
ing that he was entirely absorbed in it, but he was no 
more absorbed then than he is now when B IV rows him 
for thinking of her instead of what she is saying. — 
[To B IV. " I won't come unless I choose. Ask Dr. 
Prince if he's cross with me — ask him, stupid — ask 
him, ask him, ask him."] . . . 

I haven't yet told about J.'s first coming, nor about 
mamma's death, nor any of those things, although I sup- 
pose they ought to have gone in long ago. I think before 
I began writing about J., I was trying to show how by C.'s 
allowing herself to be ruled by one idea we grew farther 
and farther apart until by the time I got my eyes open, and 
even before that, we had scarcely anything in common. 
Sometimes I used to feel sorry for her, but more often 
impatient. There were so many things that she was un- 
reasonable about, so many things that she could not or 
would not see — would not, I think, for it is the same still. 
She holds to certain beliefs and ideas with unwearying 
patience. It makes no difference that the facts are all 
against her. It makes no difference that people never or 
very rarely live up to her expectations. She still ignores 
the facts, still idealizes the people. 

By " she " I mean always B I. I know nothing what- 
ever of IV's thought and feeling — if she has any — she 
does n't belong here anyway. . . . 

Perhaps there were other reasons besides the one about 
mamma for our growing apart. C. always does things 
very differently from me. She is so tremendousl}' in 
earnest, and I don't think I am — not often — for it makes 
me feel squeezed. \^Please — jjlease — i^lexise — find me 



another word, Dr. Prince. I don't want B IV to see this.] 

— And her being so in earnest helped to separate us too, 
and accounts, I suppose, for her knowing so much more 
in certain directions than I do, about books and pictures 
and those things, I mean. . . . But when I came J. was 
glad enough to drop all that and be simply himself. 
He was perfectly bewildered, though, at first; he could 
not understand how I had changed so suddenly and so 
completely. It was amusing too, his saying often that he 
did n't know whether — [unfinished] . . . 

[Sally (to B IV in answer to some remark, probably 
protesting). " I won't, I won't, I won't. I don't care that 
for you."] 

. . . Mamma was very ill for a long time before she died, 
and during this time C. did all sorts of absurd things so 
that I did not know for a long time what she was thinking 
about. No, she was not at all lilce B IV, but she had lial- 
lucinations of hearing and sight very much like the pneu- 
monia delirium, and the doctor said she was threatened 
with brain fever. She was not " real," you know, not her- 
self. I hardly know how to describe it — it was so dreadful 

— worse than anything that had ever happened. I used to 
want to come — to be outside again ^ — but I never could, 
and I did not know then how much it is possible for me to 
influence C, even when she is in this queer state, without 
coming, without being outside. When I am outside now 
they seem to be dead. At least if they are n't I don't see 
what has become of them. They are n't in me because 
I am always just one. If they were, I should have all their 
knowledge as well as their memory and feeling, and I 
have n't. But B IV must be C. rattled, even if I don't 
know her thoughts, for we are still connected in some way, 
else I could not make her see and hear things and not see 
and hear them. Perhaps it 's through B II, yet it can't be 

^ Referriug to the period of infancy. 


the real B II, for I always know what she thinks — always 
— although Dicky says he thinks I don't when it 's B IV 
that is hypnotized. He says there is a part I cannot 
get. . . . 

■However, to return to the time of mamma's illness. 
/T*, fnn^if^d tbnt it hw] n11 nomp bfflniL^i>f hex ;. ihat^hejiad 
fgllpp ahn^f-, ^)f God's requirements. She_tormentedMh^rse]i 
and me too, night and da y with going over, and over, and 
over, every thing that had happened since she was born, 
thinking this, that, and the other, — that she had not been 
earnest enough, that she hadnot joved mamma as deeply 
'g;S_ahg_ _§hould, that she had been dreamiiig away hpr 1ifg_ 
Jpatead jof acting. It was all rubbish. She had never done 
anything then. A ^d as for m amma, she^never wanted C. 
near her^after^ we grew older. She did n't even want to 
see_heiviuiiLwas_,alw^s _saying, "Keep out of my sight." 
And I know why, because of something that happened once 
when C. had been taking medicine and was sound asleep — 
If I had been asleep too I should n't have known it. . . . 

. . . Just before mamma died C. had a severe nervous 
shock which affected her in some way, so that I did not 
know, except occasionally, what she was thinking. We were 
separated just as B IV and I are now. C. had been very rest- 
less and nervous during the day, had been scolded and sent 
to bed several times that evening, but had finally managed 
to steal unnoticed into the room where the baby was kept 
to prevent its disturbing mamma, for it cried incessantly. 
She took it in her arms — nasty squally little thing ^ — to 
soothe it, and after a time it grew quieter ; then still more 
quiet, until finally it gave a cuiious little gasp and stopped 
breathing altogether. But C. had not noticed it, for she 
had entirely forgotten the child in going over and over for 
tlie ten tliousandth time her sins. She sat there gazing into 

^ B IV and I do not like babies ; C. does. B I and I do like animals ; B IV 
does u't. I like toads, spiders, etc. ; B I and B IV do not. 


space until morning, until the nurse came, and for a wonder 
the nurse was n't cross. She simply kissed C.'s forehead 
and took the child out of her arms. Then she started a 
little, asked C. how long she had been there, and how long 
since the baby had stopped crying. But she did n't say it 
was dead. She said it was better, but that C. herself would 
be ill unless she slept, and she begged her to go and lie 
down. C. did not know until late that afternoon, when she 
heard the nurse telling some one, that the baby had died 
in her arms, although I knew immediately that it must be 
dead.i . . . 

Soon afterward mamma died too, and then I lost C. for 
a time — for weeks, I think — during which she went about 
and did things much as usual, apparently. But it was only 
apparently, for at night when we were alone again — 

(The "auto "being interrupted, the account of C.'s mental 
condition following her mother's death is unfinished. She was 
in a disintegrated condition.) 

. . . Have I said enough about mamma's illness, death, 
etc., and C.'s curious mental condition at that time ? , . . 
The next thing of any great importance that occurred 
was_tii£_beginning_ol^/s^Jn(^^ with J., which was 
really the beginning of a new life, so much fuller was it 
in thought and action than the old had been. We saw him 
first shortly after mamma's death, and C. both at that time^ 
.and^ often afterward fancied him unreal, sent as a sort oi 
-heavenly messenger to reassure her about mamma. And 
not only was she puzzled and confused with regard to him, 
but with regard to everything else that happened during 
that year. Her account of that time as given to J., to 
Mrs. X., and to Dr. P. is false in nearly every particular, 

^ I always see and know most things more quickly than C. does, but I 
do not seem to know them more quickly than B IV guesses them. 
2 My own did not begin until years and years afterwards. 


although she herself and, I think, the Idiot still believe it 
true. J. beUeves it also and fancies that he remembers 
certain things as having actually occurred. But he does n't, 
nevertheless. He was for the greater part entirely de- 
pendent upon C, and what he now thinks he remembers as 
liaving occurred then he really remembers only because it 
was told to him then. He used to believe everything C. 
said before I came. He does n't now. 

I do not mean that C. deliberately planned to mislead 
him, but that she hersm £ould,„not_^istinguish between 
her, visions, ha Uucina tions^ impressions, wh atever ynn ca ll 
thej»jjyid^jlie_rgalit^. She honestly believed herself the 
victim of fierce persecution, and her intensity, together 
with his absolute faith in her, forced this belief on J. also. 
It was very funny. He used to sympathize so heartily 
and give such amusing advice, never questioning anything. 
I find it most difficult to try to make you understand clearly 
her mental condition at that time. Things did not happen 
at all as she says, yet in her account of them the halluci- 
nations are so cleverly interwoven with real happenings 
that it is hard to distinguish between them. J. could not, 
and I think you have n't ^ ... I could not tell J. all this, 
for I never talked to him then, but I knew it just as 
perfectly as I do now. 

Despite all this mental confusion and inability to recog- 
nize her hallucinations as such, C. was on the whole very 
much more reasonable, more like other people, I mean, from 
the time of first meeting J. until the time he frightened 
her. She gradually ceased to think of mamma as suffer- 
ing, of herself as being responsible, although there were 
times when the old feelings seemed to return with great 
force and I was afraid she would give in to them. But 
having so many other things to think of and J. to talk 

1 All these details of her early life have been omitted in the biographical 
account given in the first two chapters. 


with helped her. She dreamed of devoting her life to hira, 
of being always with him. To expr f^ssj it. rlifFprAnfly, ]]^. 
was the second divinity to whom she did reverence, 
mamma having been the fi rsts Mrs. X. was not the third, 
but a continuation of mamma, and so first, I think. The 
others, greater and lesser, may be arranged some other 
time. They are n't very interesting except perhaps as show- 
ing how differently they were ranked in our respective 
minds. We always saw them differently and hence cared 
for them in different degrees. I 'm not sure, though, that 
I do not like myself best of all the people I have known. 
By myself I do not mean I or IV, I mean just Sally Beau- 
champ. At any rate I do not get tired of myself as I seem 
to sooner or later of every one else. ... To return to C.'s 
fright, however. Dr. P. seems to think it changed her to 
B IV.^ But it didn't. IV came years and years and 
years afterward in Boston. She never saw " Providence." 
As for C.'s being profoundly affected by that night's ex- 
perience, it is absurd. ... If she hadn't been so stupid 
she would have listened to his explanation instead of re- 
peating over and over again like a parrot, " Oh, go away, 
go away, do go away ! " She did n't hear anything he said, 
but I did and know all about it now. No one else does, 
except possibly C II, who often sees and hears things which 
B I and IV know nothing about. But seeing and hearing 
do not make her real. The only " real " ones are C. and 
myself, II being C. asleep, and IV, C. rattled. Sometimes 
she is more rattled, sometimes less, but that does n't alter 
the fact that she is stiU C. It is confusing to have so 
many names for her and I do not like it. . . . J. did " go 
away" finally and didn't come back. He sent a great, 
great many letters to tell C. how sorry he was, but she 
would n't open any of them, even when they were directed 
in different handwriting. She sent them all back at first, 
1 This, of coarse, is an error on Sally's part. It changed her to B L> 


afterward she dropped them into the fire, and I was simply 
aching to read them. Not because I cared particularly 
about J; I didn't, but neither did I care about C, and of 
the two he was certainly much the more interesting, for C. 
was " off " again, just as after mamma's illness and death. 
C. became much as she had been then, only she did not 
have hallucinations, visions, etc. She became B I. No 
one seemed to recognize this change, however, as she kept 
on with her work just as usual. They would have been 
much more likely to notice her eccentricities had she been 
brought into closer contact with them, but coming on duty, 
as she did, when every one else was going off, and being 
alone all night save for an occasional visitation from Miss 
Y., she escaped criticism. They commented on lier pallor 
and on her extreme nervousness, but these things were 
nothing new, and were ascribed to her inability to sleep. 
Miss Y. indeed used to hint that she feared for C.'s reason, 
but she never said anything very definite. I think she was 
puzzled and interested, and wished C. to believe that she 
knew a great deal more than she really did. . . . Miss Y. 
appealed to her sympathy, besides having a peculiar sort of 
fascination for her in being different from any one else she 
had ever known. She interested herself in all the things 
C. cared for, devoting herself to the cliildren, telling of her 
experiences among the poor and discussing books, music, 
etc., by the hour. She had to do niost of this at night 
after every one else had gone to bed, as Miss E. watched 
her constantly during the day. She would appear about 
one or two o'clock with a book and urge C. to lie down 
and rest while she kept watch over the patients, but as C. 
never would do this she finally contented herself with sit- 
ting and talking, sometimes until daylight. (This was 
really very curious, for now she has to have ten hours' 
sleep every night.) All this to account for Miss Y.'s pres- 
ence in the room when J. came [at the window]. Earlier 


in the night there had been a heavy shower which had 
made the children, and some of the otlier patients as well, 
quite restless. . . . C. herself was nervous and excited, 
questioning almost for the first time the [course which 
she ought to pursue.] . . . She had been wanting for weeks 
to write Miss D.^ about it and J.'s refusal to allow this 
troubled her greatly. I should have said before, I suppose, 
that knowing Miss D. entirely changed C.'s conception of 
many things. ... As a child and as a girl she had been 
so much alone, so dependent upon heraelf for the solution 
of all problems that troubled her, that she had gmdually 
come to be guided by law^-of her own making, ignorant 
of those already existing for mankind. This despite her 
early belief in God and her desire to live and die for 
mamma. However pious and devout all that nonsense 
may seem at first, when analyzed it resolves itself simply 
into an expression of the same feeling which later led to 
her devoting herself to J. . . . 

Of so-called " religious instruction " and " ethical train- 
ing" we never had any. Until after mamma's death we 
had never been to Sunday-school but once, as a visitor, 
and never to church but twice. I think that 's why I hate 
it all so much now. Mamma had told C. that she m ust 
never, n ever tell a lie, never be in any one's debt, and never 
do a mean or co wardly thing^ This was aTT that C. had 
with which to build until J. came and afterward Miss D. 
I am not forgetting her school life. That brought greater 
problems rather than added knowledge in this respect. 

When J. came, although he was familiar with such things, 
he seemed infinitely to prefer listening to C.'s fancies to 
expressing any opinions of his own. He thought her 
awfully good, but " the most unconventional child " he had 
ever seen. Occasionally he would correct and suggest, but 
not often. With Miss D. it was very different. She cor- 

1 Later Mrs. X. 



rected, suggested, marched C. off to church, laid out a 
course of reading for her, and in various other ways helped 
to develop her infant mind, greatly to J.'s amusement. 

(The remainder of the autobiography was carried off by Sally 
and secretly buried in her box of treasures in the woods.) 

Aside from the interest pertaining to the biographical 
account of the early influences which tended towards the 
disintegration of the primary personality, the value of this 
autobiography, if substantiated, lies in the description of 
a dissociated mind, and of the alleged cleavage of con- 
sciousness dating back to early childhood, and of a fairly 
continuous and organized subconscious life from that date. 
According j to_Sally's caempryuthe separation began some- 
where^aboiit the period when the child was learning to 
walk, N vhate ver age that might have been. Sally, having 
no notion of time, does not realize the significance of age, 
or have any idea of her own age at different periods. To 
say she was two years old, or ten, would have the same 
significance to her. We cannot be too cautious in accept- 
ing introspective statements of alleged phenomena, and 
however difficult it may be to explain the statements of 
the " autobiography," judgment should be suspended until 
we have a wider knowledge of the possibilities of abnormal 
psychology than we have to-day. It should be pointed out, 
though, that in kind the phenomena do not differ from 
those recorded throughout this study. 

In interpreting this account we must entertain a critical 
scepticism on several points : fii-st, the truthfulness of the 
writer; second, the reliability of her memory; third, the 
nature of the cleavage of consciousness. 

As to the intentional truthfulness of the writer. On 
this score there are two kinds of evidence : first, that which 
pertains to a belief in the honesty of the witness, as in 
court a jury is called upon to decide the truthfulness 


of a witness from the impression of lionesty made by his 
character, personality, and manner of testifying. Unfortu- 
nately it is not open to the reader to form a judgment from 
this kind of evidence. Speaking for myself, I can only 
unqualifiedly state that it is my belief that Sally firml}' 
believes in the truthfulness and accuracy of her own state- 
ments. The second kind of evidence of the honesty of 
the writer is to be found in the contents of the writing. 
This kind of internal evidence must be judged by each 
one for himself. 

As to the second point — the reliability of Sally's mem- 
ory — although I have often experimentally proved Sally's 
memory to be in many respects far superior to that of an 
ordinary primary consciousness, — a pecuUarity, I believe, 
of subconscious phenomena, — nevertheless it must be open* 
to tricks and hallucinations, like the memory of ordinary 
people. Every one is liable to hallucinations, commonly 
called illusions of memory, by which events which have 
simply been learned by hearsay seem to be remembered 
as events which have been actually experienced. Sally 
indeed thinks she can remember events in her life dating 
back to a time before there was a separation of conscious- 
ness and which she places in infancy. But the date is an 
inference, and the facts of perception, like that of her cradle, 
she could well have acquired and probably did acquire at a 
later date. She might well have been placed in her cradle 
on some occasion when comparatively quite an old child. 
It is not uncommon, I believe, to find people who remem- 
ber events which happened at three years of age. But a 
memory going back to infancy is without doubt an hallu- 
cination similar to what many people have. 

More important, however, for critical examination is 
her memory of the beginnings of division of consciousness. 
This separation was gradual, and at first, even by her ac- 
count, seems to have been ill defined, embryonic. She 


dates the earliest beginning at the period when she was 
learning to walk. It was apparently towards the end of 
this period that, accoixling to her memory, which may here 
err, the development of a secondary consciousness took place. 
This would appear to be somewhat young for the develop- 
ment of pathological secondary states and the division of 
consciousness. Yet automatic phenomena indicative of 
doubling have occurred at a very early age ; hysteria some- 
times occurs in childhood. Catherine of Siena had visions 
at six years of age, according to her own letters. 

As to the nature of the cleavage of consciousness, we may 
ask, Does Sally's statement, assuming that it is not an error 
of memory, necessarily mean that a subconscious personality 
had developed at the early period given ? To my mind a 
rational interpretation would be that the present subcon- 
sciousness (Sally) remembers a number of isolated sub- 
conscious perceptions and feelings which as subconscious 
phenomena were more or less normal. Remembering them 
now, they seem to be her own personal experiences, just as 
I have explained the hypnotic consciousness remembers iso- 
lated absentminded perceptions, or the lost isolated tactile 
sensations of anajsthesia, as its own. Indeed this is just 
what occurs with those perceptions which make up the 
fringe about the focus of our ordinary conscious attention. 
This fringe we are only half aware of or not at all, but in 
hypnosis the hypnotic self remembers it as its own con- 
scious experience. I have made numerous experiments 
proving this, and have shown that when all the personali- 
ties are synthesized into one, there is a wide fringe of this 
kind in Miss Beauchamp's case. So I conceive it is pos- 
sible that Sally, as at present organized, may now synthe- 
size the memories of normal subconscious states belonging 
to childhood, and remembering them as the experience of 
her own personality seem to herself to have lived as a whole 
in the past. This is suggested, for instance, by the follow- 


ing sentence: "I was conscious both of the child on the 
surface, so easily affected and diverted, and of the otlier 
child (Sally) who was years and years older (I insist I was 
older and stronger)." This looks as if she were retro-jectiyig 
her present self into the past. On the other hand it must 
be confessed it is difficult to reconcile this explanation with 
the fact that Sally clearly recognizes the normal subcon- 
scious states of her childhood and designates them as C II, 
distinct from her own thoughts. It is interesting to notice 
how distinctly some of Sally's statements of subconscious 
life embody the teachings of modern psychology. 

It is difficult to accept without f urtlier and positive proof 
that such a large systematized self could have been organ- 
ized subconsciously in early childhood; and yet if this 
interpretation be rejected what view shall we take of the 
similarly systematized self apparently manifested at the 
time of this study : like that of sane Sally while B I 
was delirious (Chapters VII and XI) or that described 
in Chapters XXII and XXVI. 

A second alternative hypothesis is that Sally's whole 
memory of her subconscious experiences during childhood 
is a hallucination. If this were true it would be almost 
equally interesting. But to my mind this theory involves 
too much. It is incredible that such an enormous syste- 
matized hallucinatory memory into which are woven a 
mass of true memories, as corroborated by Miss Beauchamp, 
could possibly arise particularly in a mind possessing a 
memory as accurate, precise, and large as Sally's. It 
should be said that the main social facts of Sally's autobi- 
ography are corroborated by the Real Miss Beauchamp as 
well as B I and B IV, though the point of view taken by 
the different personalities of many of these facts is charac- 
teristically different. This of itself is of psychological 

Finally, it may be pointed out that the automatic subcon- 


scious phenomena exhibited in ray presence during the 
writing of the manuscript and recorded in it are of a very 
unusual character and worth preservation. 

Sally's autobiography must stand as it is, open to vari- 
ous possible interpretations ; yet it deserves to be put on 
record to await the observation of future cases. 



n|"^0WARDS the end of April, 1900, there was a lull in the 
. 1 storm. The barometer had risen and it seemed a good 
opportunity to make another attempt to fuse Miss Beau- 
champ and B IV into one personality, and thus, on the 
hypothesis tentatively adopted,^ regain a complete and pre- 
sumably the original self. The early attempt to do this, 
begun some months back, had been interrupted by various 
vicissitudes of family strife. But at last B IV had become 
convinced, for the moment at least, of the impracticability 
of the present family arrangement, so she agreed that a 
systematic effort should be made to amalgamate B Fs 
memories with her own. 

My idea was that if B I and B IV could be fused into 
one character, a fusion which would be the resurrection of 
the original Miss Beauchamp and the restoration of the 
original mental relations, Sally would sink out of sight and 
disappear into her original subconscious abode, if she had 

To dispose of Sally in this way after our long friendship 
seemed cold-blooded, and I confess to certain qualms. But 
what was to be done? All three could not live. The 

» See Chapter XVIII. 

* Because, among other reasons, with the synthesizing of the dissociated 
personalities into one personality, a considerable part of Sally's field of con- 
Bciousness, e. g., the motor part, would also be amalgamated with the main 
personality, and Sally's field would be so far despoiled that there would not 
be enough left to constitute a personality capable of independent spontaneous 



choice had to be made, and the law of psychology con- 
demned Sally. Sufficient only of this plan was told B IV 
to obtain her co-operation. More than this I did not dare 
disclose, for if Sally got wind of the whole scheme, as she 
certainly would if I revealed it all (for she heard whatever 
was siiid ^), she would do everything in her power to thwart 
my endeavor to get rid of her. This, in fact, was always 
an obstacle in the reconstruction of the original self, 
for whenever Sally found herself sinking out of sight, 
" squeezed." she bent all her energies to frustrate my work. 
The ingenuity which she displayed in devising schemes to 
circumvent every attempt to bring order out of chaos would 
have done credit to Machiavelli. Miss Beauchamp she 
easily checkmated by suppressing her letters and by innu- 
endoes, hints, and even by forging letters,^ which gave her 
to understand that I had had enough of her and was un- 
willing to bother myself further with her case. IV she 
teiTified by perverting the statements of B II, making 
it appear that II revealed in hypnosis private mattei-s 
which as IV she would almost sacrifice her life to keep 
secret ; she also told IV that as B II she yielded that obe- 
dience against which IV had constantly struggled ; while 
both B I and B IV she tormented until they were physi- 
cally worn out. In this way they were kept in a nervously 
unstable condition in which they could be easily controlled 
by the suteonscious self. 

On this occasion, when the plan for amalgamation was 
explained to IV, this personality insisted upon asking awk- 
ward questions about what was to be done with Sally; 
whether she would be suppressed for good, and whether 
IV would know all her thoughts, etc. These were very 
awkward questions, considering that Sally was ready to 

1 This would be practically true whatever theory of Sally be adopted, — 
whether that of a continuous subconsciousness or of an alternating self. 

2 E. g., see letters of October 5, p. 434, and October 8, Appendix N. 


take the bit in her teeth at the firet sign of danger to her 
freedom. Fortunately, I succeeded in parrying the ques- 
tions sufficiently well not to excite Sally's suspicions. 

Accordingly, B IV or B I, as the case might be, was 
'\ hypnotized daily and the proper suggestions given to B 
II. The results in many respects came up to my anticipa- 
tions. Space will allow only a brief r(jsum^ of these 
experiments, enough to make the consequences intelligible. 
A character was obtained which had all the memories of 
the daily life of B I and also of B IV. But more than 
this, this character seemed to be, as far as one could prove, 
neither B I nor B IV, but a composite of the two, al- 
though more like B I than B IV, just as the Miss Beau- 
champ of early days in character more neai"ly resembled 

Differences of character are much more easily recognized 
than described. It is still more difficult to substantiate 
the evidences on which the determining of character 
depends, for psychological characteristics are not subject 
to mathematical measurement. Still the difference between 
good temper and bad temper, between frankness and reti- 
cence, between good-will and bad-will, between the desire 
to help and that to hinder, between a tendency to idealism 
and one towards cynicism, between emotionability and 
calmness, — differences like these are easily recognized 
and even proved by simple test reactions. 

By such differences, which obtrusively forced themselves 
upon one and which had to be tactfully accepted in hand- 
ling the case, it was easy to see that the new charac- 
ter was neither B I nor B IV. She had lost the reserve, 
the depression, the emotionability, and the idealism of B I ; 
but she had also lost the quick temper, the lack of faith, 
the resentment, and the cynicism of B IV. She was a 
person of even temperament, frank and open in address 
— one who seemed to be natural and simple in her modes 


of thought and manner. Yet she more closely resembled 
B I, and might fairly be regarded as B I restored to a 
condition of healthy-mindedness. 

But it did not often happen that the new personality 
was as complete a fusion as this. Sometimes " It," as Sally \ 
humorously called her, was distinctly B I or distinctly 'IV ; I 
more or less modified, but with the memories of both. At 
such times the fusion of memories was not always complete ; 
that is, it did not include the whole life of B I and B IV, 
but only specific events or periods of time. Between these 
two extremes many variations were observed, the mixture 
at one time partaking more of the characteristics of B I, 
and at another time of the characteristics of IV, and some- 
times being a mixture difficult to identify as either. The 
exact kind of person one would get as a final product 
was always uncertain. It depended largely upon the 
status of the family concord and upon the acquiescence of 
Sally and B IV ; but also upon the formula used to wake 
the new person. If B II was told to wake as B I with 
all the memories of IV, the new person was more like 
B I ; and vice versa. But when the most finished product 
was obtained the fusion was a character which was neither 
B I nor B IV. She remembered herself as B I ; she re- 
membered herself as B IV. When asked, " Which are 
you?" she would say, "I don't know which I am" — a 
leply dictated by the fact that she knew both her other 
existences, and recognized the likenesses and differences 
between them and herself. 

It would be confusing to designate with a single name a 
person who varied in character within such wide limits, — 
from a completely fused personality to a modified B I, at 
one end of the scale, and to a modified IV at the other. If 
we name the complete or a relatively complete fusion 
" The new pei-son " as I did, then the less complete forms 
may be termed the New B I and the New B IV, these 



being more or less modified B I and B IV, with more or 
less synthesized memories. Such terms are necessary for a 
clear explanation of the experiments. 

Although the most finished product — The new person 
— was only occasionally obtained, nevertheless getting such 
a person at all was a demonstration of the fact that a syn- 
thesis of B I and B IV could he obtained, and that to all 
appearances this synthesis was a normal individual. It was 
plainly more stable and less suggestible than either B I or 
B IV, and better adapted to resist the disintegrating effects 
of the environment. It was much less subject to the little 
" traumatic neuroses," the nervous shocks to which Miss 
Beauchamp was subject. The ordinary frictions of life, a 
hasty word, or annoying action, which would have caused 
in either B I or B IV an emotional disturbance with all its 
dire results, tended to pass off leaving .the surface of the 
new person's mental life scarcely ruffled. In this she 
approximated normality. This degree of stability dimin- 
ished according as the fusion was less complete and the 
new personality approached B I or B IV in character. Still 
even " New B I " and " New B IV " were more stable than 
the unmodified B I and B IV. 

The new personality tended to remain fused for varying 
periods, lasting from a day to a week. Here again, the more 
complete the fusion the greater the stability. The modified 
B I and B IV generally persisted but a few hours, relaps- 
ing soon to their original states. 

A matter of importance, as we shall see, was the memory 
on the part of B I and B IV for the new person. When 
the fusion was complete both B I and B IV had complete 
amnesia for this new self. Neither of these disintegrated 
pei-sonalities had any recollection whatever of the periods 
of time when they were transformed into the completely 
fused and most stable personality. Tlie same was found 
later to be true in respect to the Real Miss Beauchamp 


when finally obtained by another method. But when, as 
was most often the case, the fusion was incomplete, and 
we had only a New B I or New B IV, then, after revert- 
ing again to old B I and B IV, each of these latter person- 
alities retained a memory for the thoughts and actions of 
the new personality. This proved to be a matter of con- 
siderable importance, as it had dire consequences which 
will be presently related. 

The characters of the various new personalities were 
clearly recognizable in their letters, in which one missed 
the morbid saintliness of B I and the vigorous perti- 
nacity of lY. They exhibited rather a healthy-mindedness, 
though this varied with the stability. The modifications 
of personality may be thus summarized : 

(a) New B I, modified by the ideas, memories, and traits 
of IV. 

(b) New B IV, modified by similar acquisitions from 

(c) Intermediate states. 

B IV and B I each, after returning to herself, remem- 
bered all these new states. 

(d) The new person, an apparently complete fusion. 
Neither B I nor IV afterwards remembered this state. 

That the new person was the original Miss Beauchamp 
did not necessarily follow. That was a matter for object- 
ive identification. Theoretically, she might be only an 
artificial creation. Yet the possibility of artificially fusing 
the elements of the two groups of conscious states into one 
personality, much as one might by a chemical synthesis 
make a new chemical compound, is not without interest. 

This synthesis is an interesting study in itself, aside 
from the stor}' of Miss Beauchamp's fortunes. The modes 
in which the peculiarities of each character were modified 
by the acquisition of tlie ideas, memory, and one or more 
character traits of the other personality, is in itself well 


worthy of inquiry. Such a study is bound to throw light 
upon the meaning of character, but it is not easy, — perhaps 
as yet not possible, to interpret the results correctly, or to 
trace the resulting alterations of character to their true psy- 
chological basis. Limitations of space prevent my entering 
upon a detailed description of the modifications observed, 
but a few general conclusions may be stated. As far as 
memory went the synthesis was simply a combination of 
the memories of both personalities. The same was true of 
the faculties and educational acquisitions which one or the 
other character had lost. For example, it will be remem- 
bered that sometimes B I and sometimes B IV lost her 
knowledge of languages while the other regained it. In 
the fused personality this knowledge was retained. 

Some other characteristics of the new personalities, par- 
ticularly of the completely fused new person, were plainly 
to be regarded as the resultant of the fusion rather than as 
simple additions. The characteristics referred to are per- 
haps to be summed up by what we include in the term 
mood ; the absence, for example, of morbid depression, of 
emotional impressionability, of exaggerated points of view, 
idealism, etc. Other characteristics again appeared to be 
feelings and emotions which were introduced into the re- 
sultant consciousness apparently by the force of the law of 
associated ideas. As when, for example, the mere awaken- 
ing in New IV of the memories which belonged to Miss 
Beauchamp brought at the same time all the associated 
feelings and emotions of the latter, though toned down and 
modified. Other characteristics again seemed to be the 
resultant of a return to normality ; as, for example, the dis- 
appearance of the neurasthenic symptoms and the return 
of physical and mental states of well-being and healthy- 
mindedness. The new person was comparatively well and 

It was also noticeable tliat the New B IV, even when 


largely IV, resembled in moral character Miss Beauchamp 
more than B IV; that is to say, it seemed as if it was 
strong, vigorous-minded IV — a character that could be as 
a whole still recognized as IV — that took on the moral 
characteristics of Miss Beauchamp, rather than the reverse. 
It was IV who became amiable and gentle-mannered, and 
not Miss Beauchamp who became quick-tempered and rude. 
It was IV who became amenable to control, open-minded, 
and practical, and not Miss Beauchamp who became hostile 
and i-ebeUious. It was IV who acquired the points of view 
of Miss Beauchamp, and not vice versa. (A further dis- 
cussion of the experimental syntheses will be reserved for 
a future study.) 

But what happened to Sally, it will be asked, as a result 
of all this ? From a psychological point of view the effect 
upon this dissociated pei'sonalit}'- was not the least interest- 
ing result. In the fusion of B I and B IV, Sally, as had 
been anticipated, tended to become " squeezed," to disap- 
pear, to go back to whence she came. The more complete 
the fusion and the greater the stability, the more was this 
the case. At times, when the fusion was most complete, 
she even lost the power of influencing the " new person," 
as she used to call her ; and although she still " came " she 
could not do so voluntarily, but only by accident. She 
could not by " willing," or b}^ any of the secret devices 
which she had invented, change the new person into herself 
as she could change B I and B IV. In other words, she 
returned once more to lier true function — if she had one, 
which may be doubted — that of a subconsciousness, her 
wings clipped, and her powera stripped from her. She was, 
to all appearances, fused in the new personality. 

We had pieced together the ddbris of personality into a 
whole ; we had sent Sally back to where she belonged. 
Was this new personality the Real Miss Beauchamp? If 
so, we had obtained a verification of the hypothesis that 


B I and B IV were only quasi-somnambulistic person- 
ages, disintegrated portions of the real self. If we ac- 
cept as criteria of normality, freedom from amnesia, even 
temperament, stability, health, and absence of suggestibility 
and of abnormal phenomena, then we may conclude that on 
a certain number of occasions glimpses of the Real Miss 
Beauchamp were obtained. Nothing permanent, how- 
ever, had been accomphshed, though if these experiments 
had been allowed to proceed unhampered, wdthout inter- 
ference from any of the personalities, and above all, if the 
personalities could have been induced to co-operate, the 
problem of disintegrated personality, as far as exemplified 
by this case, might at this time have been solved, much 
tribulation and sorrow spared to Miss Beauchamp, and 
much trouble to myself. But this was not to be. It 
seemed as if each step forward brought new difficulties. 

For the acceptance by the psychologist of much of that 
which has just been said, the details of the experiments 
should be studied with all the recorded evidence bearing 
upon the conclusions arrived at. But inasmuch as at a 
later period I succeeded in obtaining the Real Miss Beau- 
champ by another and much more reliable method, which 
was more certain in its results and produced a much 
more stable personality, and which besides solved the 
problem of B II, further evidence will be deferred until 
the time comes to describe these later experiments. It 
remains only for the present to narrate the consequences 
of the experiments which, whatever their success from a 
psychological point of view, were destined to be ill-fated. 

When the new peraonalities awakened with all the mem- 
ories of the other selves, everything would have gone well 
perhaps if each had learned in this way about only her ex- 
ternal acts as Miss Beauchamp and as B IV. But each 
learned more than this. It will be easier to explain what 
happened if I simplify the complex psychological condi- 


tions which resulted from this " putting together " process 
describing those occasions when the new personality was 
only B I more or less modified, and those when she was 
IV similarly changed (that is, not complete). 

When Miss Beauchamp became possessed of the memories 
of IV, they awakened within her a consciousness not only 
of IV's doings, but of the thoughts, the feelings, and the 
emotions by which IV had been dominated. (IV from her 
point of view was, after all, herself.) There surged up within 
her a consciousness of how she herself, as it seemed to her, 
had acted and thought ; she saw her attitude of mind, her 
rebelliousness, her anger, her subterfuges, her prevarica- 
tions, her fibs, her plots to thwart every effort to aid her 
that was not according to her wishes, her attempts to avoid 
control, her unyielding determination to carry out her own 
will, — all this she remembered. It came as a revelation 
to herself of a part of her life which had so far been hidden 
from her. It was a blow to her pride and to her self-respect. 
She remembered her thoughts as IV just as any one of us 
might remember moments in our lives when we had lost 
control of ourselves, being for the time perhaps the sport 
of our emotions, or when, under the influence of circum- 
stances, we had been dominated by thoughts and feelings 
which ordinarily were foreign to our natures. So the life 
of IV at such times seemed to the new Miss Beauchamp to 
be her own past life, but one of change of mood. 

More than this, when Miss Beauchamp returned to her- 
self again, reverted completely to B I, she remembered 
herself as the New B I, and therefore still retained the mem- 
ory of this revelation. For the first time she, the saint, 
saw herself in her other character, IV, a character almost 
the antithesis of herself. She was inexpressibly shocked, 
humiliated. Unable to look upon it as a mere psychologi- 
cal phenomenon, a freak of consciousness, she insisted 
upon regarding that other character as herself. " It is my- 


self after all," she would say, and yet that other character 
was so foreign to her own that she felt humiliated and 
ashamed. On such occasions when, as the result of my 
suggestions, the memories of herself as IV poured in upon 
her, a great wave of remorse would overwhelm her. *' I am 
sorry," she would meekly say. " I do not know why I 
behaved so ! Will you forgive me ? " She looked upon 
herself as one who had sinned, and so the revelation brought 
distress as well as possibilities of health. Even when the 
personalities were most completely amalgamated, the new 
person took the same view, although in a more reasonable, 
self-contained, and less emotional way, for she was in her 
ideals much like disintegrated Miss Beauchamp. 

Something of this is expressed in the following note, 
written at my request by lY, who remembered the thoughts 
of the incompletely fused personality. It is an analysis of 
Miss Beauchamp's thoughts on one occasion when I had 
made her remember herself as IV. The fusion being in- 
complete, she was for the most part B I. As one of the 
results of the experiment, when IV returned to herself 
she also retained a recollection of her experiences as the 
New B I, and was therefore able to describe them. The 
occasion selected is one of the earlier experiments when 
the first realization of herself as B IV was awakened in 
Miss Beauchamp. 

(The words in parentheses are interpolations to which 
IV assented to make the matter clearer.) 

" I remember everything that happened yesterday afternoon 
until you tried to hypnotize me. Tlien, although I did not lose 
consciousness, I felt as if I were changed — as if I were becoming 
my old self again. ... I fought against the feeling and against 
you. ..." 1 

1 In the first attempt B IV was only partly hypnotized, but her eyes closed 
and she was strongly influenced. 


[The letter here gives a brief account of certain specific mental 
states characteristic of B I, which surged up within IV as she 
felt herself slipping back, and which caused her to resist. Then 
repenting, as she saw that I was about to give up the attempt :] 
" I begged that you would try once more, you remember, and 
this time I gave myself up entirely. I remember only your say- 
ing ' Sleep, sleep,' and then, 'Who are you?' I could hardly 
answer, 'Miss Beauchamp,'^ (New B I) I felt so confused. I 
wondered how I came to be standing there. I had not the slight- 
est recollection of what had gone before. Then, as you ques- 
tioned me, and I remembered what I had been doing the last 
day or two (as B IV), I felt ashamed, humiliated, and fright- 
ened. I longed to beg your forgiveness, to throw myself at 
your feet, to do something that would blot out the memory 
of my sins. . . . 

"After leaving your office I felt troubled and distressed. I 
kept going over and over certain things, trying to find out why 
I had acted in one way (that is as B I) rather than in another. 
I kept thinking of you, too, recalling many things in connection 
with you (for example when I was B I) which I have never 
(consciously) known (as B IV). They may or may not be true. 
I cannot (as B IV) say. Yesterday it seemed as if they were. 
But to-day everything is changed, and, as I told you, I cannot 
understand now why I should have felt and acted as I did 
twenty-four hours ago. Yet at the time I was perfectly sincere. 
I did not realize how very absurd it all was until I had slept and 
rested and become my normal self again (that is, B IV). You 
see 1 could not have been B I. 

" April 28, 1900." 

When she wrote this note B IV had become herself 
again and " everything is changed," but she remembered 
herself as the New B I and it seemed absurd that she ever 
could have thought and felt like that. 

The effect, then, upon Miss Beauchamp of the reaHzation 
of herself in her other character was humiliation ; how was 

1 She had now become the New B I whom I had awakened with remem- 
brance of herself as IV". In the interval between the words "Sleep, sleep" 
and " Who are you 1 " she had been B II. 


it with B IV, the one whom Miss Beauchamp looked upon 
as her Mr. Hyde ? 

As long as IV was fused into the new personality, and 
even when she was not completely fused but had acquired 
through my suggestions the memories belonging to B I, 
she became modified so as to take on more or less of the 
latter's characteristics ; and her sympathies, thoughts, and 
feehngs became practically those of Miss Beauchamp. 
Along with the awakening of the memory of specific acts 
in the life of Miss Beauchamp, there was also an awaken- 
ing of the associated feehngs and emotions that had ac- 
companied those acts; and just as the acts — mental and 
physical — seemed now to have been her own, so did the 
associated feelings and emotions. All were synthesized 
with and became a part of her own personal consciousness. 
Those feelings and those points of view to which she had 
been a complete stranger a few moments before, now seemed 
to be remembered as her own, and they continued to be her 
own points of view and her own characteristics. The two 
personaUties were substantially one, and all was well. 

But later, when she became her old self again^ this self, 
like Miss Beauchamp, remembered, as I have said, the sort 
of person she had just been and what she had thought, said, 
and done; more than this, as the New ^ /F" remembered 
herself as Miss Beauchamp, and as IV retained a memory 
of the thoughts of the New BIV,so IV became possessed 
in a double fashion of a knowledge of Miss Beauchamp. 
That is, IV remembered both the character of the New 
B IV and the New B IV's memories of B I. It was like 
a mirror reflecting itself in another mirror over and over 
again. In this way she, our old IV, remembered every- 
thing that had happened internally and externally while 
she was possessed of Miss Beauchamp's memories, but she 
remembered it without any revivification of the associated 
feelings and emotions, just as one would remember a deli- 



Hum of the past?- She went back to herself as IV, retaining 
only memories of herself during the fused state (limited 
to a definite period of time), and the amnesia for all else 
became absolute again. 

Now when IV woke to this knowledge of herself in her 
other character, herself as Miss Beauchamp, her feeUngs 
were far from those of humiliation. No repentance or 
remorse for her ! She was made of sterner stuff. She felt 
only disgust and anger. When she remembered the emo- 
tions by which she had been thrilled a moment before, 
remembered her attitude of mind towards others, and the 
thoughts by which she had been dominated, she felt only 
contempt for herself — wliether as the new character or as 
B I, although, as a matter of fact, this new character was 
identified in her mind both with B I and with herself as 
she had been in days gone by. They were aD, in her 
eyes, substantially the same. She called the new person- 
ality B I. The consciousness that she was the kind of 
person she saw herself to be aroused within her anger and 
rebellion. (Indeed it was for this reason that she resisted 
the first attempt to hypnotize her, referred to above in her 
letter.) What particularly annoyed her was her passive 
obedience. To this she constantly referred. 

One day after the usual experiment, when B IV had 
been changed to Miss Beauchamp with newly added mem- 
ories, I found the following note on my table : 

1 This difference in the synthesis of memories is important for the under- 
standing, psychologically, of character. The various alterations of character 
which were experimentally induced in B I and B IV showed that a remem- 
brance of the facts of a past event, even when the memory included the 
associated mental mood, feelings, ideas (points of view), did not result in an 
alteration of personality. IV might be made to remember such events in 
B I's life without being modified in character. Besides the memory as such, 
another kind of synthesis, diflBcult perhaps to explain, was necessary : An 
alteration of " mood," etc, had to be made. In other words, memory (retro- 
spection) alone is not sufficient to determine personality, which is a mode of 
reaction of the organism. 


" DonH make me B /, Dr. Prince. It is giving me all 
that I most dread." 

An explanation of this note came from B IV the next 
day. In giving it she remonstrated emphatically against 
being made into Miss Beauchamp. B I, she said, was sen- 
sitive, morbidly impressionable, and yielded a passive obe- 
dience which she as IV keenly resented. It maddened 
her to think she was that sort of person. " I feel very 
strongly about this," she insisted. " It is a very serious 
matter with me, for I don't want to be that kind of per- 
son. Please don't make me B I." 

She remembered, too, B I's mortification, including the 
expressions of contrition with which she had apologized 
for her conduct as IV. IV saw herself a character whom 
she despised ; and she saw herself repentant for herself as 
IV — IV who yielded to no one, who demanded to be 
mistress of herself. Was it any wonder that she resented 
being changed into such a person ? Even before this reve- 
lation she had considerable knowledge of herself as Miss 
Beauchamp (B I), a knowledge gathered from her journal, 
from the discovery of letters written by Miss Beauchamp 
(all of which were promptly destroyed before they could 
be mailed), and from the information furnished by Sally. 
She also, of course, remembered herself as a girl, as she 
had been before the accident which disintegrated the orig- 
inal self in 1893, IV even objected to the kind of person 
she used to be. She had escaped from the chrysalis, and 
she was n't going back if she could help it. As Cinderella, 
when the princess' robes were stripped from her, found 
herself suddenly in rags, so did IV, when her own emo- 
tions and thoughts — her own individuality — was stripped 
from her, find herself in the rags (as she thought) of her 
other self. 

So this revelation which came from the fusion of the 
two characters only intensified her dislike to becoming 


her other self, and her meaning was plain when she wrote, 
" Don't make me B I ! It is giving»me all I most dreadl " 
The following extract from a letter, written by IV, gives 
a glimpse into the points of view of the different personali- 
ties and the way in which the memories were amalgamated : 
(Enclosed in brackets are explanatory interpolations.) 

' * All the early part of the morning I remember perfectly up 
to the time of your hypnotizing me. [From hypnosis as II she 
was changed to the "new person" (with completely fused 
character and memories), who later changed to IV, who found 
me going over some records. As already explained, IV did 
not remember this preceding period when she was the " new 
person."] I [B IV] waked [from the " new person"] to find 
you going over some records. You accused me almost imme- 
diately of having changed [that is, from the new person], 
which, of course, I denied, although I knew I had lost myself. 
But seeing in your face how useless any such denial was, I 
acknowledged it (I really had no memory of the time when the 
new personality was here) and then went on to dispute the 
account with you, you remember? And then, upon your find- 
ing that I could not recall what had happened a few moments 
before [while she was the "new person"], you again hypno- 
tized me. It must have been very long this second time before 
I came to myself.^ When I did I found that I was seated at 
your desk, reading one of Sally's notes, which I hastily de- 
stroyed, thinking that you had only left the room for a minute, 
and that on your return you would not fail to demand it. 
But you did not come. After waiting a little, I remembered 
what you had been going to do [that is, make me remember 
B I], and thought — ■ rather impatiently, I am afraid — that 
you had not succeeded very well. But almost with the thought 
came the memory^ of myself [as New B I and B I] . . . and, 
with memory, emotion — that same strange, overpowering emo- 
tion of which I told you, which seems to take one's very life, 

^ In the meantime she had been succeasively B II, the New B I (whose 
feelings, etc., she afterwards remembered), and finally Sally. 

* With these specific memories a lot of confused memories of things I don 't 
know about even now. 


to sway one irresistibly, — and jumbled memories, confused, 
of which I knew nothing. It frightened me. I felt again as if 1 
were changing, slipping back, becoming my old self, in spite of 
my struggling, perhaps because of it. I wrote you that hurried 
note and left the house. , . . To-day [May 5, 1900] I know 
that I must have lost myself in that world I told you of [that is, 
become New B I], so wonderful^ where . . . [all is idealism]. 
Perhaps it 's true and perhaps . . . 

[P. S.] "I cannot find the ' Story of Teddy Jones '^ any- 
where. You must ask Sally if she has eaten it. . . . Possibly 
she has repented her indiscretion." 

[P. S. by Sally.] " Am I a brick still, Dr. Prince? I don't 
see why you want all this, for she is n't real, you know. But 
you may have it. Don't be cross with me. I haven't written 
to you for ever so long, and I don't talk to you very much. 

" S. B." 

The discovery by IV of the sort of person she was des- 
tined to be, or that she believed she was destined to be, 
and the realization by Sally that the resurrection of the 
original Miss Beauchamp meant her own doom, that she 
would have to " go back to where she came from " and 
never again have an opportunity to play her pranks, to en- 
joy her life in her own way, and to do the things she liked, 
but instead would have to sit inside, " below the threshold 
of consciousness," dissociated and helpless, forgotten by 
every one, while Miss Beauchamp read "nasty old books," '-^ 
did " stupid old things," like going to church and serious 
work, — these discoveries by IV and Sally, respectively, 
eventually put an end to all hope of reconstructing the 
original Miss Beauchamp by the method of suggestion to 
B II. Both determined that the reconstruction should not 
be brought about, and both resisted with every means in 
their power. They threw every obstacle in the way, and 

1 Sally's Autobiography. 

* Sally's opinion of the serious books of the day. 


during the time that the attempt was continued it was one 
constant struggle against the diplomacy, the secret plotting, 
and open opposition of the Two. By contrast Miss Beau- 
champ, the saint, was content to place herself absolutely 
in my hands; hers was an attitude of perfect faith and 
confidence, whatever the consequences, whatever the cost. 
Even though it meant annihilation, she would accept it all. 
This attitude of self-subordination particularly angered IV, 
and she would have none of it. The one thing B I could 
not accept was to be like Sally or IV. This she dreaded, 
and required constantly to be assured that in becoming her 
real self it should not be. 

To reconstruct the original Miss Beauchamp it was 
necessaiy to obtain B II, to whom the suggestions must 
be given. B IV could make it difficult for me to do this 
through herself, but could not prevent my getting B II 
through B I, who offered herself freely for the purpose. 
To meet this weak point of attack, Sally brought all 
her influence to bear to prevent my gaining access to B I. 
The many ways in which the Two could frustrate my 
efforts and which led to numerous contests with myself 
will later appear. To take a mild illustration: 

One -day, not long after these experiments were begun, 
I unearthed a plot on the part of IV to get away from con- 
trol, and thus avoid being reconstructed. IV arrived in a 
belUgerent state of mind. She was not going to stand this 
sort of thing any longer, she asserted ; slie was not going to 
be hypnotized, and she would not be made into B II, and. 
so on. Nevertheless, it was evident that she was in a peck 1 
of trouble and that she had gotten herself into a mess, \ 
from which, as usual, I should have to extricate her. It 
was always so. 

B II was finally obtained, and thereupon gave the whole 
thing away. B II was very much disturbed by all that 
had happened and repeatedly begged me not to leave her, 


not to let her go her own way, but to protect and control 
her. Voluntarily she told the story, although frequently 
interrupting herself and showing qualms of conscience at 
betraying IV's secrets, which she was loath to reveal. 
She was torn by two conflicting desires, one coming from 
IV and the other from B I. 

The substance of her story was that IV, desiring to 
escape reconstruction, had concocted a plot with her friend 
Anna, by which they were secretly to go off into the 
country to a house belonging to Anna and there live 
together, after Mrs. X. (who acted as a sort of guardian 
friend to Miss Beauchamp) and myself had left town 
for the summer. Anna had proposed the plan. It was 
thought that we should thus lose sight of IV and then she 
would be free of us all. Of course, as was learned, poor 
B I had come to herself at different times in the midst of 
the plot just long enough to learn a part of it and to fear 
the rest. She was trembling for what she supposed she had 
done, and what she would do, not knowing either clearly. 
What little she knew corroborated IPs statements. Sally 
confirmed these and later IV herself made a confession.^ 

Sally, in her customary way, was having one of the times 
of her life, enjoying both the plot and its marring and the 
discomfiture of the family. Now the simplest way to put 
a stop to everything of this kind was, first, to reveal the 
whole to B I and give counter-suggestions to B II. But 
this was more easily said than done. When I attempted to 
give the suggestions to II, Sally took a hand in the affair. 

"You shall remain B I all the time," was commanded; 
"you shall never change to B IV." For the purpose of 
enforcing this suggestion she was directed to repeat it. 

" I shall remain B IV all the time," was the way she 
did it. 

^ Two years later the Heal Miss Beaachamp gave me a similar accoant of 
the plan. 


"No; B I." 

" Yes, I said B IV." 

« No, you shall stay 5 Z " 

« That is what I said — B IV." 

She could hear me say only B IV. Over and over again 
I tried to make her hear and say " B I," but in vain. In say- 
ing " IV " she ran the two numbers together, thus, " four- 
one," making them sound like one word, but also as if it was 
intended that I should hear the word " o?ie," and B II the 
word "/owr." Of course this was Sally's doing. B II 
was all unconscious that she did not hear and repeat my 
suggestion exactly as I had given it. Thus Sally, as she 
later confessed, circumvented me for the moment. Sally's 
confession was accompanied by the usual insistence that 
Miss Beauchamp should not stay, that she did not like 
her, but preferred IV ; and so on. 

Thus through plots, counterplots, and interferences these 
experiments were destined to come to naught, as far as 
they were aimed at bringing about any permanent restora- 
tion of the family to its primitive head ; yet they served a 
valuable end. They showed that a single personaUty could 
be created by the fusion of the two personalities, and that as 
a result of the fusion the subconscious self tended to dis- 
appear from sight, that is to say, to become fused with the 
others, so that all three selves were largely amalgamated 
into one. This synthesis also demonstrated that the 
hypothesis which had been tentatively accepted was cor- 
rect ; namely, that Miss Beauchamp and IV were only dis- 
integrated groups of conscious states, and that both would 
eventually have to bid adieu to their friends. Finally, it 
seemed to have been shown, although not so conclusively, 
that the new person thus created was the original self, 
the true Miss Beauchamp, for whom we had been hunting 
so long. 




IT was now April, 1900, Two years had elapsed since 
Sally's first appearance, and nearly a year since the 
birth of B IV in June, 1899. The autumn and winter just 
past had been occupied chiefly in studying the different 
personalities, with the results which have been stated, 
r The case was a perfect gold mine of abnormal psychology, 
1 and offered a rare opportunity for experimental study. 
Many studies of this kind were made, and the results I 
hope to make still further use of at some future time. As 
one result of these studies we had a fairl}-- accurate concep- 
tion of the pathology of the case, though the riddle of IHI 
was still unsolved, — who she was and the relation she 
bore to the other selves, — and we had accomplished little 
in the permanent synthesis of the disintegrated selves. 
Progress was slow, but the obstacles were many. 

During the last ten months the Beauchamp family had 
worried through life after a fashion. It had attended lec- 
tures in a local college, had performed a certain amount of 
outside duties, not perhaps very systematically, and had 
attended to the daily routine of its own life ; for, like other 
families, the Beaucharaps required three meals a day, a 
proper amount of dressmaking, a reasonable amount of 
household duties, and the maintenance of a certain degree 
of social intercourse with its friends. Most of Sally's auto- 
biography was written during the winter and spring. This 
was slow work, subject to many interruptions, and, as we 
know, it had to be almost entirely rewritten once and 

SOCIAL LIFE IN 1900 419 

partly rewritten twice. All these duties had to be done, 
and were done, even if in an eccentric way ; the surprising 
thing is that they were all done without exciting the sus- 
picions of those not in the secret of the case. Miss Beau- 
champ was known to be a semi-invalid, hable to periodical 
break-downs, — and that is all that was and is known 
excepting to a few.^ Yet the family managed to get on 

The home life was probably the most trying to B I and 
B IV. To be ginjgith» dressing was a labor. It was apt 
to mean tw o or more baths, for IV would never believe she 
had had one unless she took it herself_. This may seem a 
trivial matter, but what answer was slie to make to the other 
inmates of the house when she was reminded that she had 
just taken one bath ? Then the afternoon bath was likely 
to be similarly duplicated and similarly commented upon. 
She did manage to give apparently satisfactoiy answers and 
avert suspicion, but it was trying. B I, too, was often in 
the same predicament. Then, after the bath, came dressing. 
Suppose it was B I who began, and suppose Sally had not 
hidden some of the most important articles. When nearly 
dressed, B IV as likely as not would come and then off 
would come everything, to be replaced by clothes of B IV's 
liking, and the hair would be done all over again another 
way. Lucky it was if B I did not come again before 
finishing, and all did not have to be done over again for 
a third time. Then came the family breakfast involving 
new difficulties ; and then the family papers, exercises, and 
letters had to be found. Where were they? Had Sally 
destroyed them, or IV, or B I? (for somebody always ob- 
jected to something) and so on. Before the day began it 
was tliree hours' hard work, requiring unending patience 
and much strength. And so it went on during the day. 

1 The case has, however, been exhibited to several psychologists and 


It is not without interest that about this time B I and 
B IV both learned to write shorthand and to use the type- 
writer. Sally can do neither. During the instruction B I 
and B IV would often change with each other, and of 
course, each would be oblivious of what had gone before. 
Yet they managed to become proficient. Sally, when she 
happened to be present, took no interest in this instruction, 
and claimed not to pay attention, though she generally sat | 
decorously enough during the lectures. Sometimes she ' 
played truant. This_knowledge of shorthand _.becamfi_a. 

^reat help afterwards, enabling B I and B IV to keep 

notes of eng;:_^ements and duties, so that when a change qf^ 
personalities took place either on " coming " could go on 
with wliat was in hand. A memorandum was made of 
every message or task; this enabled either with the help 
of a few inferences, and, when necessary, a little " fishing," 
to go on with what she found herself doing. If a letter, 
it was not difficult, from what had already been written 
and the memorandum, to finish it. If the clue was in- 
sufficient, a note in shorthand to herself would await the 
change of personality. At times, however, in the absence 
of a memorandum, no amount of inference or guessing 
would suffice. 

It would seem at first sight to have been impossible for 
Miss Beauchamp to successfully disguise her infinnity from 
her friends, and maintain her social relations ; but a little 
consideration will show that although difficult it was not 
impossible. Both B I and B IV were unusually reticent 
about themselves, having the faculty of keeping people at 
a distance and repelling every inquiry into their private 
life. The former always tried to conceal her anxieties, her 
depression, and, we may say, her morbid sorrows. The 
latter did the same for her peculiar troubles, and neither 
gave away the thoughts which were a part of the moods. 
Sally was only too anxious to \ie thought Miss Beauchamp 

SOCIAL LIFE IN 1900 421 

to disclose the secret of her own existence. While the 
varying moods, therefore, of the three personalities made 
Miss Beauchamp appear a "strange, incomprehensible" 
character, no one suspected that they represented altera- 
tion of personality. 

As to the amnesia, even this was not as difficult a matter 
to conceal as would seem at first. The content of our 
minds is constantly changing from moment to moment; 
and the number of memories of specific events required 
at any particular instant to avoid social embarrassment is 
not large. At any given time of the day we do not keep 
in mind many of the preceding events of the day ; we recall 
them only when required. When B I or B IV could not 
do this, an evasive reply, an inference, or a guess would 
answer the purpose. When the questioner believes that 
as a matter of course a person is familiar with a specific 
event, his suspicions are not easily aroused, especially as 
few people have any knowledge of alterations of person- 
ality. I have known a patient with continuous amnesia, 
forgetting after an interval of a few minutes everything as 
fast as it occurred, to attend the hospital clinic for three 
months without the loss of memory being suspected by 
the attending physician. __^^.^ 

The chief difficulties lay, not in carrying on her outside 1 
life, but in the hostilities of the personalities to one another. [ 
IV's determination to manage her life in her own way, 
even to the arrangement of the furniture in the room and | 
her mode of dress, was one of the great difficulties, and / 
came next to Sally's interference. -^ — 

It is difficult to describe a typical day, as scarcely two 
were alike ; nor is it easy to state the frequency with which 
changes of personalities were made, so much depended 
upon the state of health of B I and B IV, and upon treat- 
ment. When the health was bad, when insomnia and 
anxiety had done their work, the successive transforma- 


tions might be a dozen a day; while after treatment, a 
good night's sleep, and relief from anxiety, Sally might be 
suppressed for several days, and the changes limited to 
infrequent alternations of B I and B IV. When treatment 
was systematically given every day or two, the peaceful 
periods might be prolonged to one or two weeks. Then, 
with the relaxation of treatment and the consequent onset 
of disintegration, would come the outbreak of Sally with 
all its consequences. 

The greatest tranquillity and stability followed the com- 
plete fusion of I and IV, and then the resulting *' New Miss 
Beauchamp " would enjoy several days or a week of peace- 
ful life and strength. 

The letters of the fused personality showed a mental 
balance which contrasted strongly with the extravagant 
points of view of I and IV. Lacking the individuality 
exhibited by the letters of the other personalities, they 
are not as interesting in themselves, but are important as 

It wiU thus be seen that Miss Beauchamp's life was 
not all trial and tribulation. Through treatment she was 
given many peaceful days, and often rather long periods of 
comparative mental and physical health. It was quite 
interesting to see the transformation that would, almost 
in a moment, come over her as the result of suggestion. 
The replacement of neurasthenic symptoms and mental 
depression by feelings of well-being and mental peace, 
was instructive. The difficulty was that these results did 
not last, roughly speaking, over two or three days, and 
were always liable to be undone by the disintegrating 
effects of the strain to which her life was continuously 
subject. It was one of those cases which require freedom 
from every sort of responsibility and care, material and 
mental ; and yet Miss Beauchamp's circumstances were such 
that a life of that kind was impossible. Easily fatigued, 


SOCIAL LIFE IN 1900 423 

she was obliged to continuously exert herself beyond her 
strength ; in need of the assistance of a nurse, or companion, 
she was required to depend upon herself; mentally fitted 
only for peace, she was constantly subject to anxiety and 
fears. Her psychical make-up required that she should be 
under constant advisory guidance in meeting the every-day 
demands of her life ; but that same make-up prevented her 
disclosing those demands, and threw her upon her own 
resources. B I could not by nature voluntarily discuss 
her private life, and IV would not do so. Thus it was 
that the effects of treatment were constantly being undone, 
even long after the Real Miss Beauchamp was obtained by 
a method which always awakened a definite and the same 
personality. To keep Miss Beauchamp in comparative sta- 
bility required constant supervision, exacting more time 
than it was possible to give. To obtain the relief which 
always immediately followed treatment meant at this time, 
and for a long time afterward, a preliminary contest with 
Sally and IV, generally lasting an hour and sometimes two 
or three hours. There was a limit, therefore, to the super- 
vision that could be given, and it was practically necessary 
to leave Miss Beauchamp to a large extent to her own 
resources until extreme disintegration made interference 
acceptable as well as obligatory. 

What would have happened if the case had not been sub- 
jected to this long-continued study and supervision, can only 
be surmised from the disastrous effects which attended the 
summer vacations, or Miss Beauchamp's visit to Europe in 
1901 under apparently favorable conditions. The strain in- 
cident to such experiences when she was thrown on her own 
mental resources well-nigh undid all good previously accom- 
plished. It is probable that, deprived of continuous su- 
pervision. Miss Beauchamp would have ended in some 
" Salpetri^re ; " where, after being reported in the conven- 
tional fashion as an instance of " multiple personality," her 


case would have been soon forgotten in the list of incura- 
bles, as has been the case with so many of her prototypes. 

It has already been pointed out that the psychological 
situation changed soon after IV's advent, in that previously 
the famil)'- difficulties grew out of Sally's efforts to live 
her own life and to torment B I, while now the wrangling 
lay almost entirely between IV and Sally. Poor Miss 
Beauchamp was no longer a factor in the controversy. 
Sally simply disregarded her as too insignificant to waste 
time upon. Besides, Miss Beauchamp was "no fun," as 
Sally often remarked. She would not battle, as would IV, 
but patiently, religiously, sought to do penance for her 
sins, the sins of her other selves. In a previous chapter 
(XIX) all this has been mentioned in a general way, and 
the social relations of IV and Sally are recognizable in the 
autobiography. A few specific details and some of the 
letters will give a better idea of what was going on. IV 
and Sally had been squabbling all winter, but in the early 
spring formal war was declared. The ostensible cause was 
the autobiography; but underlying this was the deter- 
mination of IV to down Sally, — to " conquer this thing," 
as she expressed it, and to continue the sole personality 
and obtain her freedom. " You cannot hold me," she 
wrote ; " nothing can or shall. I want my freedom." 

An amusing side of the contest was the strategy with 
which B IV deceived Sally, not only as to her own char- 
acter, but as to her tactical intentions and moves. Sally, 
always gullible, would be taken in time and again, though 
she affected to despise her adversary. I used to hear the 
complaints of both sides : Sally, in narrating her troubles, 
would call IV all manner of names, saying that she had no 
sense of honor, no moral sense, or anything else. IV was 
equally intolerant of Sally, who, she declared, was untrust- 
worthy, a child without sense ; in fact, nothing but a de- 
lirium. Of course they showered each other with letters 

SOCIAL LIFE IN 1900 425 

and criticisms, written, on Sally's part, sometimes auto- 
matically and sometimes in the ordinary way. IV really, 
in her heart, I think, enjoyed the contest and egged Sally 
on. She had the advantage, in that she could mutter aU 
sorts of nasty comments about her opponent, who of course 
heard them but could reply only in writing. If all this 
had affected only Sally and B IV, it would have been 
comical enough, for neither of the two possessed feel- 
ings to be hurt ; but the worst of it was that poor Miss 
Beauchamp often caught a blow intended for one of the 
others. For when she awoke she would find letters ad- 
dressed apparently to herself; at any rate, she accepted 
them as applicable to herself, holding that after all was 
said all the personalities were herself. She would wince 
under the stings and jibes meant for IV, but which she 
thought were her own self-dissection, and became the unin- 
tended football of the other two. Sally resorted to many 
of the old methods by which she had formerly tormented 
B I. It was a cat-and-dog life. 

One night Sally, to make IV miserable, piled all the 
furniture, everything movable in the room, upon the bed 
and tlien changed herself to IV. But IV foiled her. 
Instead of putting the room to rights, as Sally imagined 
she would be obliged to do in order to go to bed, she rolled 
herself up in a steamer rug and slept on the floor. A huge 
joke on Sally, IV thought, but it was really on Miss Beau- 
champ ; for, instead of waking up in the morning as IV, 
she woke as Miss Beauchamp, to whose lot it fell to be the 
drudge and put all the furniture back in place. The fol- 
lowing letters, too, give an insight into the condition of 
the family relations. 

Some one had sent B IV some theatre tickets for one of 
Ibsen's plays. Sally at the theatre changed IV to B I, who 
thus saw the play while IV lost it. The following, from 
Sally to IV, is a propos of this victory : 


" How awfully clever of you to roast D , was n't it? But 

it cost you Ibsen all the same! I don't believe you know what 
decency is, you bad lot! You're hipped." 

[From Sally to M. P.] "I have decided to send you the 
other note to-night, for B IV may destroy it if I don't. She 
has such an ' onsartain ' temper, and ever since you left this 
afternoon she 's been exercising it on me and on poor B I. 
She rows us for thinking certain things which are exactly iden- 
tical with her own unexpressed thoughts. So! Am I to let 
her do everything just as she chooses? B I won't like it if I 
do. And am I to send all the letters they feel inclined to 
write ? They are n't worth reading, really. Please tell me this, 
and tell me when you are coming back. I miss you awfully 
now. And whether I may write J. another letter. Don't forget 
about it. 

" B I is buried in the blues. I do hate her just as much as 

[" Thursday, April, IQOO.'T 

[From Sally to same.] " I know you want me to work more 
rapidly, and so does B IV, but I really can't do it. Don't be 
cross with me, will you ? I am awfully squeezed, and it makes 
it hard. The enclosed note is hers. "Will you read all she 
sends me if I turn them over to you? She can't be real. C. 
never was horrid like that, — either before Providence or since. 

"S. B." 

[From IV to Sally.] "What a very charming mouse,^ Sally, 
dear j but don't you know he 'd be loads more interesting if 
you 'd give him a tail and whiskers. All well-regulated mice 
have them. It saves time, you know. 
" Amen. Amen. Amen. 
"Sally Beacchamp, 
" Aged 49, 

" Amen Corner." 

[A postscript to one of IV's letters.] " Sally, dear thing, took 
four pills last night. '^ You can imagine how affectionately I 
think of her to-day." 

^ Referring to the autobiography. " You see what a tiny mouse it is," 
Sally had written, in reference to her MS. 
a Calomel! 

SOCIAL LIFE IN 1900 427 

[P. S. by Sally.] "Will you forgive me, too, Dr. Prince? 
Please do, for letting you have this." 

[From B IV.] "I cannot come to-morrow. Sally must 
work here or not at all. But I will give you Friday and Sat- 
urday for finishing up the thing. I am so angry with you. I 
think seriously of getting a waxen image, with pins, etc., and 
retiring with it into the country. Shall I, or will that, too, be 
useless? You cannot hold me. Dr. Prince. Nothing can or 
shall. I want my freedom. 

" Sincerely," 

[P. S. by Sally.] " This is her own letter. Dr. Prince, really. 
She did all the revising and abridging herself and tore up the 
other. I have n't touched it, except to add this. But I 'm glad 
she 's unhappy. And she 's still fibbing, for I know she is n't 
cross with you. I think she 's the very queerest person I ever 
saw. She can't he real. She could not do and say such ex- 
traordinary things if she were. I am so sorry for you. 

"S. B." 

[From Sally.] " You need n't pay the slightest attention to 
anything B IV says, or does, or writes. I shall finish the Auto- 
biography if I choose, and I shall say just as much about 
Mamma and about Jones as I think necessary. You could n't 
understand it, could you, if I did n't put all that in ? And I 
want you to understand. But I forget that you don't know 
about B IV's destroying all the last part of what I wrote. 
She did it because it was about Mamma, and she does n't 
want me to speak of her at all. She flew into a perfect rage 
about it, called me ' Shylock * and ' devil," and everything. But 
it is true, nevertheless, what I said. I should think she 'd be 
glad to remember that time when she used to be so different, 
should n't you? But she 's not at all. 

" About the rest of the Autobiography, Dr. Prince, why must 
I hurry so with it? You said at first that I could take loads of 
time if I wanted to, and write it just any way I chose. Now 
you keep saying, ' Make haste,' and B IV keeps saying, ' Hump 
yourself, Sally, dear ; ' and between you I get so squeezed that 
I cannot write at all. Won't you let me alone, and let me do 


it my own way ? I 'm coming up to-morrow to go on with it, 
if nothing happens. 

" 1 am simply aching to write B IV. Won't you please, 
please let me ? or at least tell me why she does such odd things 
if she 's real ? For instance, you know about her eating — 
how she 's always hungry — yet she has n't been to a single 
meal since she got out of bed. Not one. I have to go, or else 
C. And she 's like that about everything. I don't understand 

" You are n't cross with me for writing you all this, are you? 
I don't mean to vex you, you know, although it is this being 
good all the time that squeezes me so terribly. 

" Hoping you are much better and rested, I am, 

" Sally Beauchamp." 

[From B IV, April 23, 1900. I had written on the 
outside of the envelope of a letter addressed to her, " For 

"Dr. Prince, — Will you be good enough to address my 
letters properly." 

In April a lull in hostilities allowed the experiments de- 
scribed in the foregoing chapter to be carried on, but the 
war soon broke out again. Harmony was about as stable 
as that of the South American Republics, of which one is 
constantly reminded by the repeated revolutionary outbreaks 
against the psychic autonomy of Miss Beauchamp. 

One day in June, 1900, IV appeared, looking as if she 
had been dragged through a knot-hole, tired, jaded, and 
crestfallen. Of course she had been fighting with Sally, 
and equally of course she had got the worst of it. The 
consequent insomnia had done its usual part, and her 
strength had gone. Miss Beauchamp, of course, was in 
the same condition.^ Interviews with the various members 
of the family, including B II, brought out the facts. The 

1 The mental disintegration to which Miss Beanchamp was reduced by 
troubles of this kind niaj be seen by her letters which often at such times 
were incoherent and unfinished (see Appendix N). 

SOCIAL LIFE IN 1900 429 

statements of each corroborated those of the others. When 
Sally's turn arrived, she came bouncing into existence, and, 
evidently expecting a scolding, began to beg off to avoid 
confession. But a severe scolding and threats of punish- 
ment brought her to terms and to a full confession of her 

In the first place she had drunk some wine, to which 
Miss Beauchamp was unaccustomed, and then changing to 
B I instead of B IV, probably by accident, Miss Beauchamp 
found herself disagreeably dizzy ; or, to call a spade a spade, 
a wee bit tipsy. Then again, Sally had obtained some mor- 
phine and, undertaking to play the part of the friendly 
physician, had given it to IV for insomnia. As I had pre- 
viously suggested that morphine should produce nausea, 
Miss Beauchamp and B IV were going about as if they 
were passengere on a trans-Atlantic liner. But though 
Sally's prescription was based on sound medical practice for 
the purpose for which it was intended, Sally had no such 
purpose in view. To her mind a peaceful night was not 
essential ; particularly as, if the remainder of the family slept, 
her own wings would be clipped and her power over the 
other members of the family would be curtailed. So, partly 
to counteract the effect of her prescription, and partly to 
insure proper moral discipline, Sally made a night of it for 
B IV, and incidentally for B I, who changed with each otlier. 
She made them see visions of centipedes and horrible 
animals running about the bed, and she set up little hob- 
goblins, grotesque figures who sat upon the bedstead and 
grinned at them. Miss Beauchamp was so rattled that, as 
in a delirium, she thought tliem real ; but IV recognized 
them as hallucinations. Nevertheless IV was frightened, 
as one is by a nightmare. 

Sally did not rest content with this material world, but 
let her imagination run riot in the realms of the super- 
natural. She made them see faces and hands at the win- 


dow, — not real faces and hands, but ghostly ones. Both 
B I and B IV were afraid to go to sleep, and lay awake, 
reading, the whole night, — or such part of it as was left 
to them in peace. These pranks were carried on not one 
night, but several ; so that little sleep could be obtained. 

Automatic writmg, too, Sally found effective in hazing 
In this she was an adept, as we know. But now she 
thought it in keeping with her part to imitate the style 
and manner of the mediums. She found it much more 
effective, she said, to fail to cross her t's and to dot her 
i's, and to write in rather a scraggly way as the mediums 
do. Then there were letters innumerable telling them of 
things that she thought it would be particularly disagree- 
able for them to hear. 

After a few days of such contests, a night's rest obtained 
through suggestive treatment would restore IV's shattered 
nerves ; and she would reappear with new courage, reinvig- 
orated, ready for the fray. And so the war went merrily 
on. All this was nuts to Sally, who enjoyed life hugely. 
It was the greatest amusement she could have, so long as 
she could n't lead her own life. 

Being out of town during the summer, I saw little of the 
family, but was kept fairly well informed of events through 
correspondence, besides being occasionally called to town 
to set matters right. Miss Beauchamp was at the mercy 
of the Two. They destroyed her letters and confiscated 
my letters to her, while Sally continued to write the usual 
messages to make her believe that I did not want to be 
bothered with her case any longer. Receiving no answers 
to her appeals, she believed Sally's tales, and felt herself 
isolated, helpless, without a soul to whom she could turn. 
Then Sally, knowing that insomnia and a sparse diet tended 
to keep the family in a disintegrated condition, systemati- 
cally prevented their sleeping at night, and kept them from 
their meals. Miss Beauchamp had a miserable time of it 

SOCIAL LIFE IN 1900 431 

Some of the letters received during the summer and 
autumn (1900) [see Appendix N] give an idea of the 

When the experiments were resumed in the autumn, I 
was again confronted with the opposition of the Two. The 
members of the opposition were not united among them- 
selves, and their mutual bickerings were still going on. 
Yet IV, though unAvilhng to be reconstructed, was dissatis- 
fied with the conditions of her triple existence. She 
declared her unwillingness to continue this state of things, 
yet at the same time she was unwilling to be "put to- 
gether." She was told that if she would co-operate she could 
be made whole ; but co-operation meant the acceptance of 
all that she bitterly disliked, and to this she declared she 
would never consent, A true feminine that she was, she \ 
wanted to have her cake and to eat it too, — " to be herself," \ 
and to be " whole " at the same time. 

The result of it all was that for two years it was not 
possible to continue reconstruction. 

[From notebook, October S, 1900. "This was an eventful 
afternoon, and for the moment threatened disaster to the family. 
I was giving B II suggestions in the usual way. Finally, when 
I said, ' You will awake as B I and remember everything that 
you have done as IV, ' I suddenly heard the voice of Sally say- 
ing, almost fiercely, ' She sha'n't come, she sha'n't come.' B II 
was all unconscious of her lips having spoken, nor did she 
hear the words. A sharp rebuke to Sally at once brought that 
young incorrigible. In an injured tone she objected to Miss 
Beauchamp's being allowed to come ; she liked IV much better; 
she did n't want B I ; she would n't have her, and so on. Re- 
monstrances, scolding, persuasion had no effect upon this 
infant subconsciousness; she was angry and rebellious. 

"Finally, to end the scene, I authoritatively informed her 
that B I was to come to me three times a week to be put to- 
gether. Sally's cup of bitterness ran over. Her answer was 
a positive refusal to allow it. 


" As I was called away at this point, Sally asked permission 
to remain in my absence, though refusing to give a reason for 
her request. Something plainly was up. I left her in deep 
dejected thought. It was transparently clear that she was 
plotting a new scheme to encompass my defeat, and it remained 
only to watch developments. 

" On my return an hour later, I surprised not Sally but IV, 
holding two letters in her hand. She was disturbed, angry, 
resentful. She burst out with reproaches, saying that if I had 
anything to tell her, any objection to her visits, or any criti- 
cism of her conduct, I might at least say it to her face, not write 
it, and above all say it to her direct and not to Sally. Sally 
plainly had been at work. Developments were coming. IV 
handed me one of the letters. It was her answer to a supposed 
letter of mine and ran as follows " : 

' ' Dr. Prince : 

" I have your not« and ' prescription ' and prefer to acknowl- 
edge their receipt. It may simplify matters for you to have 
this in black and white. 

"Christine L. Beadchamp." 

The other letter, to which this was her heroic answer, 
read as follows : 

"Will you be kind enough to remain at home unless your 
presence at my office is especially requested? I have other 
patients, also other duties, which, unfortunately, require time. 

"I would suggest your taking a little sense to quiet your 
senses, hourly, until you are relieved. Nothing more will be 
needed in your case. Do not answer this." 

On the back was written : 

"For Miss Beauchamp when she wakes." 

B IV was palpably under the delusion that this letter 
had been written by me. 

"'Is that my handwriting?' I asked. She insisted that it 
was. It was a good half-hour before she could be convinced 

SOCIAL LIFE IN 1900 433 

that the letter was a forgery, a trick of Sally's, and that it was 
by a hallucination that she had perceived and even still saw 
the handwriting as mine. ' I think I know your handwriting/ 
she haughtily insisted." 

The finale of this affair came October 8, three days 
later ; but in the meantime Sally took her revenge for the 
disclosure of her plot. She wrote IV innumerable letters, 
each of which was a stab in a sensitive spot ; and IV wilted 
under the attack and showed she felt the sting. When, 
three days later, suggestions were again given to B II, 
Sally again objected, speaking at first, as before, as a sub- 
consciousness ; and then, coming in person, " I have two 

bottles of poison," she threatened, " and if you go to X 

Y [my usual threat in extremities] , I shall give it to IV 

and make her all dead." 

Who could tell what a disintegrated personality might 
not do ? And yet I knew Sally's weak spots, and knew 
she could not be unkind for long, if only those spots were 
touched. So it came about that under alternate threats 
and cajoling Sally was soon repentant and submissive, 
sorry for all ; and I soon had before me Miss Beauchamp 
(B I), whom I had not succeeded in seeing for many 
weeks. To my surprise, instead of showing pleasure at 
finding herself present, she became at once painfully apolo- 
getic. She expressed regret for having intruded, dis- 
claimed any intention of taking my time, was sorry for 
having come, and so on. She sought to escape from the 
room. Her attitude, while dignified, was, to an onlooker, 
pathetic. She seemed like one who had appealed for life, 
and to whom help had been refused, one who, against her 
will, had been made to appear to be forcing her unwelcome 
presence. As she was leaving the room, I was obliged to 
take her by the hand and lead her back, a sad, pathetic, 
but dignified figure. Soon the whole story came out, told by 
both herself and shortly after by B II, Mho filled the gaps : 



During the previous months she had received letters 
from Sally saying that I objected to her taking my time, 
and now she had received a similar letter ; for, it appeared 
that on October 6th when Sally, left alone in the room, 
wrote the letter that had made IV so wrathy, she first 
changed herself to B 1, whom she allowed to remain long 
enough to read it, and then promptly changed B I to IV, 
whom I found with the letter in her hand. So both had 
read it. The letter was so addressed that it would do for 

The difference in the behavior of the three personalities 
I, II, and IV on receiving the letter was characteristic. 

B I did not answer, because she was instructed not to do 
so; she was obedient, apologetic, regretful, hurt, cast 

B IV at once replied defiantly. She was angry and 

B II begged pathetically not to be sent away, that I 
would help her, protect her from herself, from every one, 
from Anna, from what I prefer to call " outside influences " 
which were largely responsible for Sally's conduct. 



ONE day, June 12, 1900, Sally arrived with angels' 
wings, as it were, fluttering in the breeze. She had 
turned over a new leaf and was in a saintly mood. She 
was going, she said, to be always good hereafter, and to do 
anything and everything that I wished. To prove that she 
had creased down the leaf, she proceeded to disclose a great 
and secret discovery she had made, one that she was anxious 
should not be imparted to B IV. At last she had got hold 
of IV's thoughts, and her astonishment at the discovery 
of the latter's real character knew no bounds. To under- 
stand the reason for her astonishment it is only necessary 
to recall that in teasing IV, who always retaliated in 
kind, Sally could play quite a game. They were like two 
children tormenting one another from morning till night. 
But in this game IV had an advantage over her child- 
like and gullible opponent. As her thoughts were not 
known to Sally, who, as she believed, was watching ^ 
her every movement and listening to every word that 
might give an inkling as to what was going on in her 
mind, it was easy by a little strategy to hoodwink her 
"subliminal," and throw her off her track. For this 
purpose IV used to resort to every kind of artifice that 
would disguise her real thoughts and keep Sally in the 

1 This phraseology which connotes continuous co-conscious activity, ex- 
pressed TV's attitude and tlie theory to which she was practically obliged 
to conform her conduct. 


dark. She would throw out a remark for Sally to hear 
that would be the direct opposite of what she was really 
thinking. She would show signs of disliking that to which 
she was strongly attached, and pretend that her feelings 
were unaffected when she really had to use all her will- 
power to maintain self-control. She would feign being 
unmoved by emotion when she was boiling over. She 
would even feign illness. At fu"st Sally used to swallow it 
all, bait, hook, and line, so that IV did not find it difficult 
to make Sally believe that she was a different person in her 
feelings and tastes from M^iat she really was. She suc- 
ceeded in making Sally believe that she disliked people 
whom in reality she liked ; that she was devoid of senti- 
ment and emotion which were strong elements in her nature; 
and in short that her character was very different from what 
it was. By degrees Sally "got on " to IV's methods and 
became suspicious, though it took a long time for her to 
acquire this wisdom. 

Sally had often attempted to get hold of IV's thoughts, 
but without success. At last her efforts were rewarded. 
By an ingenious artifice, after first " rattling " IV, she 
penetrated within the secret chamber of her mind, and 
on several occasions became conscious of what IV was 
thinking. But — horrihile dictu — like Bluebeard's wife, 
after that lady had unlocked the forbidden door, she was 
astounded by what she learned. 

" Why, she is not at all what I thought she was," Sally 
often said. " She is a terrible person. I never dreamed 
she was like that." On one occasion, after discovering in 
IV's thoughts a drastic ultimatum which she threatened to 
carry out, Sally remarked : " Why, she is a terrible person ; 
she is not at all like B I. She actually does these things. 
B I would only say that she was ' very sorry ' ! " 

The fact is that Sally was not only frightened but 
astounded when she found that IV was not in play but in 


dead earnest when she fought. It was a game only, just 
fun for Sally, that meant nothing more than is meant by 
children's " scrapping " with one another. But now Sally 
discovered that with IV it was a different sort of thing. 
She discovered that her other hot-tempered self really was 
angry and meant to destroy her if she could; that she 
planned direful things and meant to carry them out, and 
that she would let nothing, not even her own comfort, 
stand in the way of accomplishing her ends. To Sally it 
was a surprise to learn from those thoughts, so long con- 
cealed, that when IV threatened to shut herself up in an 
insane asylum to punish her demon she meant it. Then 
too the child Sally could not understand why IV pre- 
tended not to like persons and things when the reverse 
was the case, or why she disguised sentiments which were 
implanted deeply in her nature. 

The truth is that Sally was too undeveloped and too 
unsophisticated to understand that trait in IV which was 
almost the strongest element in her character, namely, to 
suppress, to trample on at all costs every emotion and 
feeling that tended to arouse that idealism and impression- 
ability which belonged to I, and which threatened to place 
her under the influence of others. Though she had no 
idealism, yet she had emotions as well as B I, and she felt 
herself swayed by them at times. If she gave way to them 
they would rise and overwhelm her as they did B I. "I 
will be myself," she would exclaim, and so she denied, 
fought against, and suppressed her own nature. No won- 
der she was a puzzle and a surprise to a child like Sally. 

When at last Sally learned what kind of person she was 
dealing with, found out that IV meant what she said, and 
that she would carry out her threats regardless of conse- 
quences, whether to herself or any one else, she became 
actually afraid of her, and did not even dare to let her 
know that she could discover her thousrhts. But it must 


not be imagined that Sally after her first success continued 
to be conscious of IV's thoughts, as she was of Miss 
Beauchamp's. She could become conscious of them only 
as a result of an effort of will and of a certain process she 
had to go through, and then only at certain times when 
TV was in a perturbed condition of mind, which, however, 
Sally could encourage by inducing hallucinations. All this 
must be gone through with every time. So altogether 
Sally did not often resort to the trick. 

The procedure she explained as follows : 

If IV is in a sufficiently perturbed condition of mind, 
Sally proceeds to give her suggestions internally, copying 
the mode in which I am in the habit of doing it, and using 
the following three formulae : 

(a) You shall stay IV. (Unless this suggestion is given, 
Sally's knowing IV's thoughts changes IV to I.) 

(b) You shall not become hypnotized. (If this is not 
said IV changes into the half-hypnotic confused condition 
of BlVa.) 

(c) I shall know everything you are thinking. 

Sally wrote out an account of the first experiment she 
made to learn B IV's thoughts. Like most of Sally's 
accounts it is unfinished (Sally always tired of such 
tasks before they were completed), but it is sufficiently 
instructive to be worth giving. It very neatly although 
apparently unconsciously describes two contemporary 
streams of consciousness similar to what was described 
in the autobiography. I also give Sally's letters which 
preceded and followed her description of the experiment. 

" I do hope," she wrote, "this will help you to understand 
B IV, and please don't fancy that I was unwilling to write it. 
I want to keep my promise, really, yet when you ask me to do 
certain things, I feel so perfectly sure I cannot do them that 
there does n't seem to be any use in trying. So in regard to 


this, I am not unwilling but unable to make her thought clear 
to you. And then, too, she is so entirely different from what 
I fancied her that it is like being brought into contact with 
another person, almost an entire stranger, as you will see from 
what I have written. It was her attitude towards J. that you 
most wanted to know, was n't it ? It puzzles me awfully. I 
can see no reason whatever in the whole thing. 


" S. B. 
"P. S. Please put it all away " [so that IV will not see it]. 

[Sally's account of her experiment.] "When C. [B I]^ left 
here yesterday she changed to IV at the foot of the stairs and 
remained IV all the way to the Fens. She seemed much more 
subdued in her manner than usual, and I kept wondering what 
she was going to do, for it was late and she ought to have gone 
directly home. I thought possibly she was going to walk to 
Brookline to keep the appointment with Anna which she had 
made. Yet that seemed most unlikely after all that had 

' ' Then I wondered why it was that knowing C.'s thoughts as 
fully as I do it should be so impossible for me to get at anything 
in IV's mind, or to understand her motives in doing the very 
simplest things. We must be connected in some way, I know, 
else it would be impossible for me to make her see and hear 
things or to do things against her will. Then I tried, as I have / 
so many times, to get hold of her, repeating, ' You shall tell 
me everything, everything — ' but it only changed her to C. ; 
and although I knew everything in her mind then, I knew too 
that her mind was not IV's mind, so that I really was no wiser 
than before. Then I made her IV again, and after a minute 
repeated, ' You, B IV, shall tell me everything, everything. 
You cannot help it.' But, as at first, it only changed her to 
C, with all C.'s thoughts and feelings. It seemed as if there 
were really no way for me to reach IV save through R II, and 
I have always believed that I did not get the true IV then 
because having all C.'s memories, feelings, etc., shem?f.s« neces- 
sarily be modified. I wanted to get her just while she was 

1 As in the autobiography Sally means B I by C. (Christine). 


doing and saying some of the erratic things in which she seems 
to take such delight. I thought if I could do this I could 
understand her so much better than anything I could get 
through B II. So I tried again, but started this time in a dif- 
fei'ent way with experiments which I knew from experience 
would prove successful. 

' ' First, 1 changed C. to B IV ; then I made B IV walk in a 
different direction, away from Brookline, instead of toward it, 
as she had been going. Then — she had been walking very 
rapidly — I made her go more slowly, finally stopping her 
altogether. She looked around for a minute or two in a puzzled 
sort of way, then shrugged her shoulders and began to study 
the shrubbery. When she got tired of this she scolded me — 
at least I know she meant it for scolding and that she was very 
angry although she only muttered under her breath phrases 
like these : ' So it is you again, Sally dear ! I have missed you 
so ! How thoughtful of you to call my attention to the view. 
The beauty of those clouds, such a misty gray! Who said 
promises were "sacred," Sally dear! Bah, we know better I' 
etc., etc. 

" It does n't sound exasperating to you, perhaps, but it was 
awfully exasperating at the time and made me more determined 
than ever to get hold of her and keep hold of her. After a 
time we walked on, leaving the Feus by way of Gainsboro 

Street, and took a car for the Restaurant, where as you know 

she has absolutely refused to go for months past. On the way 
there I made her have two visions, not as I often do by simply 
willing, but by saying, * You, B IV, see a huge toad on the path 
directly in front of you. You touch him with " Billy " ' — and 
she did see it and did apparently push it aside. Again I said, 
' You, B IV, see J. coming. You see him signalling this car. 
It is not a lady. It is J. He sits there in front of you, but 
you dare not make the slightest sign. Now, he is going — 
you may . . . ' 

" She saw him and sat perfectly quiet, doing exactly what I 
had suggested. After this she left the car, entered the dining- 
room, and ordered and ate her dinner, although one could see 
from her impatient manner that she was acting strongly against 
her will. After dinner she went directly home and took up a 


book (' Sartor Resartus ') to read. But it did not seem to 
interest her particularly, for she held it a long time, looking at 
it without attempting to turn the pages. Finally she threw it 
from her, exclaiming, ' Not for our sins, but hy them, Sally dear ; 
thus saith the Fra who knoweth.' Then she began walking up 
and down, up and down, as C.^ used to do and as B I does now 
when she is very much distressed about anything. Not quite 
like that either, for B IV seemed much more scornful and im- 
patient than distressed, and she stopped occasionally to say 
things out loud to me about ' The Walrus and the carpenter ' 
and such stuff. I could not see that it had any special signifi- 
cance, and think she did it simply that 1 might not guess at any- 
thing going on in her mind. At length when I got tired of this I 
tried again to reach her, saying, ' You, B IV, will stay IV. 
You won't change. You won't become hypnotized, but I shall 
know everything you are thinking, everything, do you hear?' 

"Then it seemed to me (but wrongl}') that she became C. 
immediately, for she was repeating certain verses which I did 
not suppose B IV ever knew. This was awfully stupid of me, 
of course, but I did not stop to think at the moment that if it 
were really B I (C.) her first thought on coming to herself ^vould 
have been of the difference in her surroundings (that is, between 
the Fens and her room, and she would not be repeating a 
poem). ^ I did not think of anything save my own disappointment 
in losing B IV so quickly. I was discouraged. But suddenly 
I realized that ' she ' had dropped the poem and was talking 
of me. Not as B I has always thought of me, but in a disdain- 
ful sort of way that yet had something of fear in it, which I can 
only try to express by quoting exactly what seemed to pass 
through her mind. Her thought when formulated took very 
different shape from C.'s but was perhaps easier to follow — 

" She broke off the verses and began to think of me and the 
past, and the following about me : 

[Referring to Sally.] "' Not know what I think ? Notknow? 
How can that be? [Thoughts change to another.] Oh, God 
have mercy upon me ! [Thinking of Sally.] I must throw her 

1 In this sentence C. is used for Miss Beauchamp before the hospital episode. 
^ B I, like B IV, is always a little confused and puzzled on coming to 


something, I am forgetting — [Again thinking of anotlier, but 
quoting] " Never again, never again shall I trust you ! " O my 
love. I see you still, with — [Aloud.] Sally! "If all 
God's creatures could be fed," ^ Sally dear, you know. 
" ' Devil-ridden that I am — '" 

[Note from Sally.] " I haven't finished it, as you see, and 
I 'm afraid it 's not very interesting from your point of view, 
but 1 want you to keep it away from B IV until to-morrow if 
you will. She does n't know that I can tell her thoughts, and 
I 'm afraid she 'd better not know it ever, although I should love 
to tell her. But I won't ; really I won't. 

" S. B." 

Tlie S3aithesizing of B IV's consciousness with that of 
the subconsciousness (Sally) has more of a biographical than 
scientific interest, as it vras not open to experimental cor- 
roboration. Sally's testimony must be judged in connection 
with the remainder of the phenomena exhibited by this 
dissociated personality. It has, however, been partially 
corroborated by the primary consciousness, B IV, who tes- 
tified that her own vision and thoughts occurred just as 
described by Sally ; so that to this extent Sally's state- 
ment has been verified. The difference in the relations of 
Sally's consciousness to B I and B IV opens up some 
very puzzling problems. Why should the subconscious- 
ness be able to synthesize the thoughts of B I but not 
those of B IV ? To do the latter it became necessary to 
produce further disintegration. Why ? These and similar 
questions must remain unanswered until we know more 
about the mechanism of thought. The wide field of logi- 
cally systematized co-conscious thought, if the introspective 
account given of it is to be accepted, is perhaps the most 
important of the phenomena described by the secondary 

1 Quotation from some college nonsense-rhjrmes. 

" If all Grod's creatures could be fed, 
The first I 'd feed would be Co-ed." • 


personality. It is difficult to decide whether this testimony- 
should be accepted as it stands, or whether it requires in- 
terpretation. If Sally described the facts as she saw them, 
was it all a hallucination of memory on her part? But 
B IV testified to the accuracy of the statements regard- 
ing her own thoughts. The co-conscious train of thought 
involved logical reasoning, perception, and volition of a high 
order. It was of the same order as much of that recorded 
in the Autobiography. We know too little of abnormal 
psychology to reject this evidence off-hand, but before 
such phenomena can be accepted they should be corrobo- 
rated by independent observations in other cases. In the 
records of abnormal psychology there is much that tends 
to substantiate the claims of Sally; but this is hardly 
the place to review the evidence, and I shall let the case 
stand for the present as it is. 



IT is now time to describe a new state which developed 
about this period, and which was at first quite puzzling. 
This " state," which hardly rose to the level of a person- 
ality, is of considerable interest from a psychological point 
of view on account of the light it helps to throw on the 
principle of dissociation. In this particular case it became 
a factor of great importance in practical management, for 
it acquired an influence which could not be disregarded, 
but which had to be cajoled, reasoned with, or bullied, 
according to the exigencies of the moment. 

Psychologically, the interest in this state lay in the fact 
that it demonstrated that B IV could be disintegrated 
without wholly losing those distinctive qualities which char- 
acterized her, just as B I could be disintegrated to become 
B I a. B IV, we had reason to beUeve, was but a disin- 
tegrated portion of the real self. The integrated elements 
of this portion now proved to be capable of being still 
further dissociated, so that there resulted a hypnotic state 
having its own distinct chains of memories of which B IV 
had no knowledge. As would be expected, a state of this 
kind was necessarily unstable, and, as will appear, could 
be still further disintegrated under the stress of certain 
psychical excitants. 

All this has a distinct bearing on the theory of disin- 
tegrated personality, for it is a portion of the evidence 
which goes to show that there is no limit to the modes and 
degrees in which personality may be disintegrated, or to 


the combinations in which psychical (or cortical) elements 
may be arranged and rearranged. 

One day (December 28, 1900) I was talking with B II 
when she seemed to slide into a state with which I was 
familiar, a half-hypnotic state between IV and II, and 
tlirough which IV very frequently passed before becoming 
B II. But on this occasion she spontaneously opened her 
eyes and revealed herself a character different in many 
ways from anything thus far seen. When questioned she 
said she was B II, she was B I, she was IV, she was Sally ; 
she was all in one.^ But on putting her to the test it was 
found that in reahty she had no memory of Sally's life, 
or of B I's, or of B II's. 

At first this state was quite a puzzle to make out, for 
there was an attitude of aggressive hostility in her make-up 
which led her to claim to be the other personalities with 
the evident purpose of defeating the ends which I had in 
view. It was not clear whether she was B II modified in 
character, and for some reason much changed in feeling, 
thought, and even memory, or whether it was one of the 
other personalities still further disintegrated. As a result 
of repeated observations, which I may here simply sum- 
marize, it was finally determined that she, or " It," was 
B IV disintegrated, or in a new hypnotic state, and she 
was accordingly dubbed B IV a. This state differed in 
every way from B II, both in character and in memories. 

As has just been stated, it had been previously observed 
that when B IV was hypnotized for the purpose of obtain- 
ing B II, she used to pass at times into a transitional, or 
what I called (in comparison with B II) a half-hypnotic 
condition. I had paid very little attention to it, being 
chiefly concerned with more deeply hypnotizing her into 
B II. This state now manifested certain important charac- 

1 These names she had learned partly from having IV's memory and 
partly from me. 


teristics. I shall speak of her memory first. As I said, 
she used to claim that she was each and all of the others, 
that she knew all about them; but whenever put to the 
test it was proved that she knew only B IV, of whom, 
however, she had a clear knowledge. She never showed 
any power of recalling any part of the life of the others. 
Nor did B I or B IV have any knowledge of this state. 
When too she was wakened she always became at once 
B IV (never B I) whose memory would be blank for the 
preceding hour or half-hour. On the other hand, B II 
knows B IV a, and because of her has often reproached 
herself deeply. (B II, it will be remembered, also knows 

In temperament B IV a was individual and characteristic. 
On a number of occasions she spontaneously opened her 
eyes, and then her personality seemed to become broadened. 
She was and is very much like IV from whom all restraint 
has been removed, and not at all like II. " She is deter- 
mined," my notes read, "assertive, and difficult to control." 
It has seemed at times as if this personality represented 
the deeper, stronger feelings of B IV, those feehngs which 
ordinarily the latter controls, either as a matter of judg- 
ment, manners, or expediency, but which in hypnosis 
become dominant. For instance, B IV has a persistent 
and deep dislike to being hypnotized, for fear that she may 
become infected with B I's saintliness, or that she or Sally 
may reveal some of her own doings, which doings she knows 
will be disapproved. Frequently, however, she voluntarily 
requested to be hypnotized for therapeutic purposes, — for 
the relief of disturbing insomnia or other symptoms. 
Yet, despite her own request, the moment she entered 
into hypnosis this B IV a has come to the front and has 
most rebelHously refused to be " hypnotized " any farther ; 
and it has always been difficult and often impossible to 
do it. For an hour or more I often labored in vain to 


change B IV a into B II, but there were psychical influ- 
ences at work (not Sally) which were stronger than my 
suggestions and which I could not fathom. Later the 
secret leaked out. It was all the consequence of sugges- 
tions which B IV systematically gave herself. Over and 
over during the day she would repeat to herself phrases 
calculated to act as counter-suggestions when hypnotized 
and prevent herself being changed to B I, or being changed 
in character at all. " I shall stay myself ; nothing can 
change me ; I shall reveal nothing ; I shall be as I am " 
were some of the suggestions which she would drill into 
her mind, and even as she was being hypnotized she would 
mutter these phrases under her breath. As she was told 
again and again, she wanted to keep her cake and to eat 
it too. She wanted to regain the memories of all the per- 
sonalities, to be all-in-one in memory, and at the same time 
to remain herself in character ; to be " put together " and 
at the same time to remain IV. It was an impossibility, 
but she contended for it, notwithstanding. Not even to 
get all her memories could she reconcile herself to the 
emotional idealism of B I. 

Accordingly, when she became IVa her desire to be 
relieved from some bodily ill sank into the background, 
and these intense feelings of her nature, rubbed in by self- 
suggestion, came to the surface and dominated her hypnotic 

When B II was asked who this new one was she an- 
swered, with a comprehensive grasp of the situation, "It 
is myself," an answer that was puzzling only for the 

" Why, then, did you not remember about B I, as you do 

" I don't know. I was confused and ' rattled.' " 
"Why was your attitude so changed and antagonistic?" 
She does not know, but she exclaims, " Why, we are aU 


the same person — [B] I, IV, and II — all but Sally." In 
saying " Sally " she shuddered and recoiled, as if from 
some dreadful thing. 

But IV a is not II either in character or in memory. 
Besides her own memories she has only those of IV. She 
is simply IV disintegrated (hypnotized). 

As to Sally's relation to this hypnotic state, Sally did 
not know her thoughts any more than she knew IV's, a 
fact which tended to identify her with a part at least of 
IV's consciousness. Sally, indeed, like B II, regaixied 
her as IV, but " rattled," as she expressed it. 

Continued observations demonstrated beyond question 
that this state is a hypnotic state of IV. Finally, when 
put upon her honor, she confessed herself to be IV, and 
later always spoke of herself as IV, never as B I or B II. 
Whenever IV was hypnotized she passed through this state 
before becoming B II ; and whenever IV a was awakened 
she became always IV. 

This B IV a we have already introduced into our disso- 
ciation ring (Chapter XVIII, p. 308). If the real self 
X = B I + B IV, as the result of our experiments (Chap- 
ter XXIV) rendered highly probable (if it did not prove 
it), then our ring might be thus constructed : 


(Real Self) 


Bla BlVa 



On the other hand, it is by a synthesis that B II is 
obtained, a synthesis of the hypnotic states B I a and 
B IV a, or, if we are not entitled to speak so precisely, 
a synthesis of certain parts of I and IV. As B II was 
only a hypnotic state the synthesis could not include the 
whole of I and IV ; for if it did we should have, not a 
hypnotic state, but the real self, supposing that the real 
self (X) = BI + BIV. But B II was plainly a hypnotic 
state, and, strangely enough, on being awakened did not 
become B I + B IV, but something else. 

As just explained, the ideas of IV were strongly retained 
in this new hypnotic state, and could be unpressed therein 
by auto-suggestion on IV's part. Any attempt on my part 
to suggest an opposite idea, so far from being accepted, Avas 
resisted with all the vehemence possible. This phenom- 
enon is entirely contrary to the popular belief that a hyp- 
notized person will necessarily accept any suggestion given.^ 
Suggestions which were objectionable to IV were always 
refused and fought against with vigor, much to my discom- 
fiture. This resistance to suggestions increased the difficul- 
ties of management. 

From the psychological point of view and also from that 
of practical management, it will be readily understood that 
B II was the key to the situation. Suggestions to B II, 
putting Sally out of the question, alone would fuse I and 
IV into one personality, and lacking this, relieve the ail- 
ments of both B I and B IV at the same time. It was 
essential, therefore, to obtain B II. Realizing this, Sally 
brought all her ingenuity to bear to prevent my obtiiining 
B II. IV did the same, dreading that she would become 
like B I. As B I was out of the case at this time (for the 
other two managed to prevent my seeing her, excepting 
accidentally), there was no way of getting B II excepting 

1 Greenwood (S. P. R. Proceedings) has pointed out the refusal of a hyp- 
notized person to accept objectionable suggestions. 



through IV. But IV always changed to B IV a before 
becoming II. Here lay the difficulty. IV's intense deter- 
mination and auto-suggestions so affected B IV a that 
every suggestion to the latter met with counter-suggestions, 
and, as I have said, even when IV voluntarily asked to be 
hypnotized, IV a would oppose every suggestion that would 
change her to II. Feeling her individuality slipping away 
from her under the influence of the sound of my voice, she 
would exclaim again and again, "Don't speak to me I 
Don't speak to me I " as if to escape from the suggestion ; 
or she would directly mutter to herself the opposite of my 
suggestion, as " I shall go away, I shall stay myself, I shall 
not change," etc. 

When IV a was conquered Sally took a hand. It will be 
remembered that the more the personalities were disinte- 
grated the more unstable they became and the easier it was 
for Sally to make use of them for her own ends. So IV a 
was easy game for Sally, who would produce hallucinations, 
or aboulia, or deafness, or by one trick or another prevent 
her changing to B II, And even when B II was obtained 
the battle was not won. When a suggestion was made to 
B II objectionable to Sally, the latter at once transformed 
her to B IV a, or else she produced the same hallucinations, 
etc., in her that she did in IV a. Sally therefore had to be 
controlled while subconscious. 

I had constantly to invent new devices to control Sally. 
The effect of pretending to etherize her while subconscious 
through B II has already been described. The same 
scheme was now worked through B IV a, but Sally soon 
discovered the pretence, and then I was obliged to use the 
real article. A light etherization of B I V a combined with 
suggestion worked in two ways. It reduced B IV a's will- 
power and resistance so that she accepted suggestions. At 
the same time it controlled Sally as a subconscious self, and 
weakened her will-power so that she could neither counter- 


act ray suggestions by her own, nor influence IV a in one or 
other of the ways already mentioned. In fact, Sally, as in 
the experiments of putting B I and B IV together, became 
" squeezed " and for a time paralyzed. Then B IV a, as she 
came out of the ether, was easily changed by suggestion to 
B II. Thus time and again Sally and I had a battle royal 
in which the stake was the control of B IV a. Though sug- 
gestions were resisted with all their will-power and by every 
sort of ingenious device by IV a and Sally, in the end, by 
means of a little ether, Sally's will would gradually weaken, 
her muscles become limp, her opposition cease, the sugges- 
tion would be accepted, and victory would perch upon my 
banner.i But the victory did not mean peace. When Sally 
found that her own existence was at stake, that it was a 
matter of life or death to herself, she redoubled her energy 
and soon invented a device to circumvent this form of at- 
tack. Unable to fight herself against the inhalation of the 
ether, she now conceived the idea of making both B IV 
and B IV a do this and refuse to take it. For this purpose 
it was necessary to give them a motive. Could she make 
the process of etherization so painful that IV would resist 
it with might and main ? She recalled how I had produced 
in herself (Sally) an awful, cold sensation to paralyze her 
will and control her. If she could make IV suffer as she 
had suffered, IV would surely fight. She tried the experi- 
ment with effect. At the first whiff of ether IV experi- 
enced a sensory hallucination in the form of a feeling so 
horrible that it is difficult to describe. This was accom- 

1 The modus operandi was not wholly the anesthetic effect of the ether on 
Sally, for later experiments proved that Sally was still conscious and able to 
signal her presence when the primary personality was well under ether. It 
was largely through suggestions that Sally was affected by the other, or, in 
other words, hypnotized while subconscious. Nevertheless a resort to pro- 
founder etherization was effective, when Sally, becoming suspicions, began to 
test her strength against these ether-suggestions. Later, when I learned to 
resurrect the Real Miss Beauchamp, to conibiue all the personalities into one, 
ether proved a power in my hands. 


panied by a sensation of icy coldness and nausea. The 
nausea alone was bad enough, but the sensory hallucina- 
tion and the coldness were so awful that IV was unable to 
endure them. The attempt to etherize her threw her into 
a hysterical paroxysm in which she screamed aloud and 
struggled violently. Her teeth chattered with the cold. 
Etherizing her became a difficult task. 

My ingenuity was taxed, but after a time I invented a 
device by which it was possible to counteract this, so that 
B IV would consent to take the ether. But now the 
moment she changed to B IV a she became Sally's tool. 
With the change the hallucination became doubly intense, 
and again the struggle would break out. Even when I 
succeeded in suppressing the sensory hallucination in this 
hypnotic state, B IV a would still struggle against the 
ether, throwing the sponge violently from her and refus- 
ing to inhale. Even at times when B IV was in a concih- 
atory mood she was powerless to help, for the effect of her 
previous auto-suggestions persisted, preventing every at- 
tempt to relieve the situation. 

Before giving a detailed account of the phenomena ex- 
hibited in one of these contests, I will mention an obser- 
vation of January 16th, 1901, as it gives a fairly good idea 
of the character of B IV a as contrasted with that of B II. 
To understand the situation it must be explained that I 
had known for some time that IV had been scheming once 
more to get away from my control, though the reason was 
concealed. She had made overtures to a mutual friend 
who would, she hoped, take her in charge. Sally was 
secretly aiding and abetting her in this, for that young 
scapegrace thought that thereby she would secure her own 
liberty. So as her share in the plot Sally undertook the 
part of hoodooing Miss Beauchamp (B I) by making her 
believe that she had committed some unpardonable fault 
and was to be sent away. Prevented from seeing me B I 



sent the following note, which plainly disclosed the 
situation : 

" If you would but forgive me or let me know in what I have 
offended ! Forgive me, forgive me, dear Dr. Prince, whatever 
this awful thing that I have done. You must not leave me. 
To whom could I go ! I have only you and I know you will 
understand ! So long you have kept me, — Won't you to the 
end ? " [Here follow four lines erased.] 

[P. S. by Sally.] "I only scratched out this little, little bit. 

" S. B." 

A few days later B I presented herself for observation, 
for the first time in many weeks. This was not because 
she had not tried to come, for she had made many fruitless 
attempts. Last week indeed she had almost succeeded. 
She was actually in the waiting-room, but had " come " 
and " gone " several times, and finally had disappeared 
before her turn to see me came. Now believing that she 
was to be sent away she was dejected in mind. Of course 
she was reassured, but when an attempt was made to 
change her through B I a to B II, the former hypnotic 
state suddenly changed to IV a who claimed as usual to 
be II, but a few simple tests disproved this claim. She 
was rebellious and aggressive, refusing to accept the sug- 
gestion of becoming more deeply hypnotized. Asked why 
she wished to go away, it came out that IV had been 
warned by " some one " that I was writing a book about 
her, and that I had even delivered a paper about her case 
before the Paris Psychological Congress.^ Whatever the 
motive the warning had the effect of playing upon her 
fears and inducing her to obstruct the work.* Domi- 
nated by the fear of publicity regarding her life, she wished 
to seek refuge in flight. 

i This paper was read before the Congress in the summer of 1 900. 

* An attempt was made also to prejudice Sally against allowing these 
studies to be made. After a frank explanation on my part, IV exi>rcssed 
herself perfectly willing that any data should be made use of, provided certain 
private matters were not mentioned. 


After learning these facts, I was called out of the room. 
On my return, I found that IV a had waked up to become 
IV, who soon spontaneously changed to B I, giving me a 
chance again to get B II. 

[Notebook.] " The contrast between the two hypnotic selves, 
between II as she sits before me, and IVa as she had been a 
moment before, is striking. Contrary to IV a, B II begs that 
she may not be allowed to go, that I will stand by her and 
protect her. Of her own accord and desire, she enlightens 
me on matters about which IV and IVa keep me in the dark. 
Sally, she says, will not allow her to continue as B I. The 
latter Sally continues to call " a chump," and has caused her to 
believe herself a nuisance, and that I propose to get rid of her 
for good and all. B II wants to be B I not IV. As to the 
publication of her case, I may use any material that I may 
have in any way that I please. She does not care at all. 
The difference between the attitude of II and that of IVa 
toward this and other matters was very marked. It was the 
spirit of friendly co-operation contrasted with that of re- 
bellious independence." 

While II was attempting to explain for my edification 
some of Sally's reprehensible conduct, she suddenly became 
dumb. In vain she struggled to speak. Equal to the occa- 
sion, I diverted the conversation, and diplomatically spoke 
in a complimentary way of Sally. Now II could go on 
again 1 

One could not help sympathizing with IV in spite of the 
trouble she had caused. She had been having a hard time 
of it. She had accepted an invitation to travel in Europe, 
and B I objected to going. She had planned to get away 

from ray control, and I objected. A objected to the 

autobiography and to my book. She had planned some 
literary work to be done in the Library, and Sally objected. 
"Everything," she complained, " is objected to by somebody, 
and my life is one constant struggle against diflSculties." 


" I do not quite understand your letter," she wrote. " "What 
I am planning to do is to give three hours every afternoon and 
two every evening to certain work at the Library, that is, for 
the next few months, until May. Then Miss K. has asked me 
to go abroad, to remain until September or October. You will 
think perhaps that I am risking a great deal, and it may be 
that I am. Sally objects to the Library work, and B I to the 
trip abroad. It would be amusing were it not so exasperating, 
to think of oneself being — " 

Here the letter ended. At the bottom Sally had written, 
" Finished. No more. The end. Your most obedient 
servant, C. L. B." 

Thus for two years, even long after the real self was 
obtained, it was a constant succession of contests of one 
kind or another, directed towards relieving the distressing 
results of disintegration and maintaining a personality with 
sufficient equilibrium to be fitted to withstand the stress of 
life. Every opportunity was taken advantage of to fuse 
the personalities, but each wished to be the one that should 
live,i and each was unwilling to be snuffed out for some 
one else. B I dreaded to be like IV, IV equally dreaded 
to be like B I, while Sally loved " herself best of all, " and 
wanted to have at least her share of the time. It was 
impossible for any one to stay permanently, for each was 
only a disintegrated self, a part of the whole, and as such 
necessarily unstable and the sport of the emotions and 
strains of life. Each, therefore, necessarily changed back 
and forth with the others. 

At times I was on the point of giving up the attempt to 
cure the case, but so long as the possibility of success 
remained it seemed that every consideration, psychological 
and professional, required that we should go on. With 
what success will be seen. 

1 It was only at a later date that B I was recouciled to her own annihilation. 




WHAT has been said in the last chapter will make 
comprehensible the motive underlying the follow- 
ing phenomena observed at this time, January 24, 1901. 
They are in part illustrative of the contests with Sally, 
but they are described here because they are instructive 
in that they present an experimental demonstration of 
the dissociation of the personal consciousness through an 
emotion, the emotion itself having the effect of producin g 
amnesia , that is, dissociating the memories of past experi- 
ences from the personal perception. Secondly, they show 
the action of a second or extra-consciousness upon the 
personal consciousness, this action taking the form of a 
volitional suggestion, similar in every way to one received 

The deafness — whether for language only or for all 
sounds was not definitely determined — is also instructive. 
That its true interpretation is dissociation and not the 
total suppression of auditory images is clearly indicated by 
the fact that the words were remembered by ^ Sally , who, 
as has been so often pointed out, is at times, at least,.jL_ 
dissociated group of co-conscious states. The auditory 
"Impressions were registered, but synthesized alone with this 
subconsciousness, Sally. 

IV was tired and worn out from insomnia. It was not 
difficult to guess that Sally had been at her old tricks, and 
had done the family up. For a long time I had been un- 
able to get hold of the little wretch, for her conscience 


pricked her, and she was afraid to meet me. I had done 
my best to wheedle her into coming, but without success. 
Worn out, IV begged to be made to sleep, but as she could 
not be carried beyond the stage of B IV a, the experiment 
of giving suggestions to this character was tried. But 
again I was foiled. B IV a did not understand a word that 
was said. She was like a person with word-deafness. 

" To-night your eyes will close. You will sleep soundly," 
were the suggestions given. But it was as if one talked to 
a person stone deaf. 

"Do make me sleep, Dr. Prince. Do make me sleep," 
she kept pleading, i-egardless of the suggestion I almost 
shouted in her ear. I varied the suggestion, emphasizing it 
in many different forms in the hope that in some shape it 
would penetrate her understanding. But she was uncon- 
scious of my having spoken, or, if she heard my voice, the 
words carried no meaning to her. It was easy to guess that 
Sally was at work as usual, but, be as insistent as I would, 
no impression could be made. 

Suddenly her face changed : a wild, frightened expres- 
sion came over it, and she looked at me with perfect horror. 
" I hate you, Di-. Prince, I hate you," she said, 

" Who are you ? " I asked, but she did not know ; nor 
did she know her name or where she Avas, nor me, though 
she spoke my name. She shrank from me as if in terror 
of my touch, and tried to steal past and out of the room. 
Her mind was plainly in a state of disintegration, retaining 
only an indistinct consciousness of her surroundings. To 
every question she vacantly answered, " Yes, yes." After 
fifteen minutes or so of this she quietly became B IV a, 
from which she was awakened as B IV. 

The psychological interest in these phenomena lies in 
the relation between Sally's consciousness and tlie other 
self, through which relation Sally was able to disintcgi-ate 
the latter, if we may accept Sally's very precise explana- 


tion of how she did it. Of course Sally remembered in a 
perfectly sane way all the details of the conditions which 
existed while B IV a was deaf to my words, and later wliile 
she was deliriously demented. Sally's memory at least was 
perfectly sane and without confusion. She remembered 
both the delirious acts and the true perceptions of the en- 
vironment, — a fact difficult to explain unless some sort of 
intelligence coexisted with the delirious one. 

As to the origin of the emotion and the delirium, she 
had not, she affirmed, "willed" specifically that B IVa 
should be frightened, that she should lose her knowledge 
of my identity and of her surroundings, and should answer 
" Yes " to every question, etc., etc., but all these things 
" went together." They were evidently the disintegrated 
effects of a great emotion which Sally aroused in a curi- 
ous way. 

It turned out that the day before Sally had seen a bird 
in a cage. The bird was frightened, crouching low, with 
its wings out-stretched. To Sally's imagination it had a 
frightened expression and looked like a snake. It occurred 
to her to make IVa take on this expression, though she 
"couldn't do it exactly," as she explained, "because the 
bird had wings, you know." She had not directly willed 
that IV a should be frightened, but she had made her face 
take an expression of fright like that of the bird, and then 
all the rest " went together." The muscular expression of 
fear awoke the emotion, and the emotion induced the " rat^ 
tling " of IV a's mind, in consequence of which she lost 
the consciousness of her own personality and of her surround- 
ings. All this was a by-product, so to speak, of the emo- 
tion. B IV, to begin with, is a disintegrated personality ; 
B IV a is further disintegrated, but now she became still 
again disintegrated and changed into a state which may be 
called B IV b. We had therefore three degrees of disinte- 
gration : B IV, B IV a, B IV b. It was an experiment in 


disintegration and suggestion, though the experimenter by 
her own testimony was a "subconscious self." Only the 
words, " I hate you," were directly uttered by the subcon- 
scious personality. These words were put into IVb's 
mouth by Sally. 

This disintegrating of the mind by an emotion is of con- I 
siderable pathological importance, for it throws light upon 
the genesis of certain pathological states — fear psychoses, 
hysterical attacks, and certain traumatic neuroses — which 
occui' as the result of railway and other accidents. 

Considering the introspective character of the evidence, 
I would not cite this particular observation in support of 
the etiology, were it not that the case was full of such 
incidents, and that grave disintegration in Miss Beauchamp I 
had been frequently observed from time to time as the | 
result of accidental emotional excitement. In fact, it will 
be remembered that B I and B IV had both developed as 
personalities out of emotional conditions. On a number of 
occasion?,, B I had been seen in a delirious state from this 
cause, though Sally was perfectly sane ; ^ and the sudden 
development of a neurasthenic condition out of a clear 
sky under similar circumstances has occurred again and 
again. I shall have occasion later to speak more fully of 
the genesis of certain types of neurasthenia upon which 
these studies seem to me to throw some light. Here I 
would simply point out the quasi-experimental induction 
of disintegration bj' emotion, and the consequences of the 
same.^ It is now generally recognized that the patiiolog- 
ical condition known as traumatic neurosis ^ which so com- 
monly follows railway accidents and in which every sort 
of nervous phenomenon may be observed, including disin- 

1 The occasion will be remembered when B I was found in a delirious 
state and Sally played nurse and cared for her until she was taken to a private 
hospital. (Chapter VII.) 

2 The case of Marie M., reported by J. M. Boeteau, presented similar phe- 
nomena. (Anuales Medico-Psychologique, January, 1892.) 



tegrated personality, is a purely functional condition and 
is brought about by the psychical and not the phys ical 
shock[ That it is the emotion of fright which is the 
genetic factor is not, I think, so clearly recognized. These 
observations on Miss Beauchamp throw light on the pos- 
sibilities of emotion in the induction of such disintegrated 

Another point which is of interest is the similarity of 
Sally's experiment to that of M. Janet. 

One of his subjects, Lucie, was thrown into catalepsy; 
then M. Janet clenched her left hand (she began at once to 
strike out), and put a pencil in her right hand, and said, 
"Adrienne (Lucie 3) what are you doing?" The left 
hand continued to strike, and the face to bear the look of 
rage, while the right hand wrote, " I am furious." " With 
whom?" "With F." "Why?" "I don't know, but I 
am very angry." M. Janet then unclenched the subject's 
left hand and put it gently to her lips. It began to blow 
kisses, and the face smiled. "Adrienne, are you still 
angry?" "No, that's over." "And now?" "Oh! I 
am happy ! " " And Lucie ? " " She knows nothing, she 
is asleep."^ 

M. Janet, like Sally, made use of the muscular sense to^ 
induce the corresponding emotion in a disintegrated per- 
sonality, for Adrienne (or Lucie 3) was not the real self 
any more than B IV or B IVa was. Just as in the 
case of Lucie the muscular attitude of the hand aroused 
the emotions of anger and pleasure, so we must conclude 
the muscular expression of B IVa's face, induced by Sally, 
aroused the emotion of fear. In each case the accompany- 
ing actions were logical consequences. 

Such experiments show the suggestibility of the mind 
when disintegrated. They also bring out the great number 
of dissociated states into which an unstable mind may be 

1 From a Bummary by F. W. H. Myers (" Human Personality " ). 


broken up. These states may be called hypnotic states, if 
preferred, but it must be plain that hypnosis is nothing 
more than the dissociation of the pe rsonal consciousness, 
and differs in no way from any state resulting from the 
disaggregating process. It would be a great advantage if 1 
the term ht/pnosis could be dropped, on account of its, 
connotation, and dissociation, or some similar expression! 

It will be evident that we may now add another radical 
to our ring, namely, B IV b, as a sort of side chain j B IV b 
being merely a dissociated state of B IVa, that into which 
she was thrown by Sally's trick. 


(real self) 


Bia BIV a BlVb 






THE relations of the personalities and the hypnotic 
states to each other must be now sufficiently clear to 
allow me to point out some additional facts which thus 
far have been passed over in order not to confuse the 
problem, though they had to be dealt with in this study. 
The dissociated states thus far described were not the only 
states met with. At various times, as a result of emotion- 
ally disintegrating circumstances, a number of other states 
were observed. The state in which B II awoke at the 
time of the experiment to resurrect the original self was 
a dissociated state, and might properly be attached in the 
ring to B II, as B II a (p. 465). Likewise, B I was disso- 
ciated into a state with very limited memory groups, hardly 
knowing where she was or what she was. This might be 
attached as Bib. Then, again, a state was observed 
similar to or possibly identical with that described on 
p. 506 when we had a state in which Miss Beauchamp 
went back to a period antedating the hospital catastrophe 
of 1893. The state of which I am speaking developed 
spontaneously in the following way out of B IV a, and in 
it the personality imagined that it was the year 1893, and 
that she was still living in the hospital at Providence : 

I had been engaged in an effort (through etherization and 
suggestion) to convert B IV a, despite her resistance, into 
B II. Becoming tired of the contest, I left her to herself 
and went on with my work which had been interrupted. 
Presently she arose, apparently wide-awake, as if she had 
changed to one of her regular personalities. But the 


difference between her as she then appeared and one of 
those personalities was puzzling. Her mood was strik- 
ingly different from any of the others. She seemed light- 
hearted and rather girlish, playing with the things in the 
room and exhibiting a freedom as if she were quite at 
home. When I remonstrated she answered that she should 
do as she pleased, and should turn everything topsy-turvy 
if she wanted to, straightway proceeding to do it with 
some of the articles on the table, although rather in jest. 
Her answers to my questions were so irrelevant that the 
first thought was that one of the personalities, probably 
Sally, was playing a part. It was some time before the 
real fact was realized, namely, that this personality thought 
the time was that when she was in the hospital at Provi- 
dence, ten years before; she thought she was in that town; 
mistook me for J. and conversed familiarly, asking all sorts 
of questions about what I was doing, etc. She did not know 
me or my name, for of course she had not heard it until 
many years later; nor did she know Mrs. X., or many other 
persons whose acquaintance she had made since. She spoke 
by name of the doctors connected with the hospital, and of 
herself as belonging to it; presently remarking that she 
must go home (to the hospital), as she must be in by nine 
o'clock, etc., etc. All her memories, however, were not 
well associated or clearly defined, for she could not state 
the name of the hospital or the name of the town. But in 
some other respects her memories were quite clear. 

Examination showed that she was in what seemed like 
a somnambulistic condition, and that she was very suscept- 
ible to suggestion, for it was easy to make her believe 
that a medical percussion hammer was a rabbit or a dog; 
that her hat, which she was putting on, was a pillow ; that 
the door was locked, etc. Still she exhibited marked 
spontaneity, and seemed a well-rounded pei-sonality. 

One interesting phenomenon was her failure to recognize 


an automobile. Her attention was attracted by the noise 
of several automobiles in the street, and she exhibited a 
lively interest in them. But she did not know what they 
were, as of course in her Providence days there were none 
in use in the neighborhood 

She was easily hypnotized, in the sense that her eyelids 
closed at a suggestion; then she suddenly changed to 
B IV, who of course, had no memory of what had just 
taken place. B IV shortly changed again, suddenly and 
spontaneously, to this somnambulistic state. (The change 
was plainly occasioned by the anxious thoughts which filled 
her mind.) Later, I changed once more this somnambulist 
to IV, who left the house. As I bade her good-by on 
the front steps she turned and made a remark which was 
characteristic of and belonged to the memories of the 
somnambulistic person. It was evident, therefore, that 
she had changed again. It was late at night, and, if she 
was in the somnambulistic condition and imagined herself 
in Providence, she would probably go wandering about in 
search of the hospital. In imagination, I saw her, at the 
end of her wanderings, the subject of the headlines of the 
newspapers the next morning. Here, too, was a chance 
not to be lost to test the bona fide character of the phe- 
nomenon. I let her go, but after she had disappeared 
in the darkness I followed on a bicycle, overtaking her 
several blocks away. I kept well behind until it was 
plainly evident that she was unaware of her whereabouts. 
I then surprised her, and found that she was still in this 
somnambulistic state. It took but a moment to hypnotize 
her on the street and change her back to B II, who was 
found to have a complete knowledge of herself as the 
somnambulistic person. As II she gave a full account 
of the matter, explaining that her memories were all 
jumbled up (confirming what had been observed), and 
attributing the whole to the great fatigue and strain under 
which she was laboring. 


It is interesting to note that B II, a synthesis which 
included B I a and B IV a, combined in herself the mem- 
ories of this somnambulistic state, and recognized them 
as a delirium. She did not regard this state as a differ- 
ent person, as Sally would, but felt only that she herself 
at that time was in a peculiar condition, just as one might 
remember a dream or delirium. 

This new state, which may be termed B IV c, if one 
likes, developed as the consequence of great fatigue and 
mental strain. It was temporary only, and ceased with 
the cessation of the cause. This somnambulistic state is 

analogous to one in the patient M 1, a Russian (already 

several times referred to), who, in hypnosis, went back 
five years in his life to a period when he was living in 
Russia. He could then speak only the dialect of his 
native town, having lost all knowledge of English, which 
he spoke well when awake. ^ 

The states thus far enumerated are not all the different 
states that were observed, one differing from another in 
the groups of memories remaining synthesized in the per- 
sonal consciousness. These states were ephemeral and 
easily transformed into the major personalities. 

We might here with propriety attach various side chains 
to our ring. Thus : 

Bb Real B B a 

BIc ..BlVd 

::B I Bill BIVCBIVc 

Bla bV BlVa BlVb 

I ! 


BII Blla 


1 Boston Medical and Surgical Journal, June 23, 1904. 


This attachment of these secondary states as side chains 
to other disintegrated states is schematic and somewhat 
arbitrary, as the relationship cannot always be demon- 
strated. It would perhaps be more logical to attach them 
to Real B as disintegrated descendants in a sort of genea- 
logical tree. Thus: 


BI Bill BIV Ba Bb Be Bd &c 
Bia BV BlVa 

The fact that B IV a could be still further disintegrated 
into other states with altered memories became a matter 
of more than psychological interest. It assumed practi- 
cal importance, for under the mental strain that the family 
w^as about this time undergoing, B IV a developed a ten- 
dency to change into such a state and thus evolve another 
personality with a new set of memories. It came about 
under the following circumstances, which are not with- 
out interest if we would understand the genesis of disin- 
tegration. They show the influence of mental strain in 
/ loosening the bonds of normal associations and thereby per- 
mitting abnormal phenomena, including new syntheses. 
We have already seen an example of the effect of this 
influence in B IV c; about this time, January, 1901, I 
had an opportunity to observe the creation of another type, 
B IV d, as well as to witness a fine example of aboulia. 
The mental strain grew partly out of the fact that not one 
of the personalities was satisfied to do what the others 
wanted, each being thrown into a state of mind which 
became, if either of the other two was allowed to have 


her own way, resentment on the part of B IV, depression 
and unhappiness on the part of B I, and boredom on the 
part of Sally. Consequently, Sally and B IV were quar- 
relling, while, as usual under such circumstances, B I 
was made to believe that she was to be cast overboard 
and left to drift by herself. She had written me letter 
after letter without receiving an answer, and had tried 
in vain to see me personally. Of course no letter had 
reached my hands. 

The following from IV, written at the beginning of the 
trouble, ^ gives only a faint insight into the nervous strain 
she was soon to labor under: 

*'. . . I really meant all that I said on Wednesday — meant 
it for a day and a night. Then Thursday I lost myself, recover- 
ing to find that it was twelve-thirty, that I had not been to the 
office, that I had neglected several other important things, and 
that I had written out a minute analysis of an experience 
which I would not have had any one know about for worlds. 
Again I lost myself ; again recovered ; I was walking rapidly 
through Marlborough Street (Where?); talking with some one 
at the P. O. (Whom ?) ; fencing with one and another here at 
home — 

" Can you not understand how great the nervous strain 
involved in keeping up with all these changes might be ? Can 
you not understand how much I would have given then for 
help? Thursday night I slept badly, lost all the first part of 
Friday morning, and finally came to myself to find regard- 
ing me most intently. He was talking. I knew that in a 
minute — a second — he would require an answer. Who was 
I? Sally or B I? And what on earth was he discussing? 

" So it has been all through all the hours since Wednesday, 
each change rendering me more nervous, more irritable, less 
able to meet the demands made upon me. Forgive me for 
writing you all this. I do it not to excuse my childishness, but 

1 Wlien she was in a tractable mood, and agreed to co-operate, to submit 
herself to experimentation, etc. 


that you may perhaps better understand my attitude toward 
you to-day. Do not consider that hour as isolated. Think of 
it as having been affected by all that has happened since 
Wednesday. If you knew all, I do think you would forgive 
me. It is really the multitude of little happenings too trivial 
for you to record, which very largely make me what I am, ' an 
idiot.' " 

Then again not only B IV had been harrowed by outside 
influences about the publication of these studies, but even 
the imperturbable Sally had been worked upon, and became 
so disturbed at the consequences which were suggested 
to her that even she showed a tendency to disintegration. 
" Somebody " had again become a disturbing factor in the 
case. B IV again rebelled against control and tried to 
escape, while at the same time B II begged for help. My 
patience was indeed tried by what seemed unnecessary 
and uncalled-for interference by "Somebody." Danger 
threatened, too, in another direction, for Sally had shown 
an unaccountable anxiety to recover possession of the man- 
uscript of her autobiography. "I want you to leave the 
manuscript out for me," she wrote, "Please, every bit of 
it. I'm terribly in earnest" 

And again : 

*'. . . All I care for is my precious manuscript, which I 
beg you will return to me, only for twenty-four hours, then j'ou 
may have it all again. I will be reasonable. I will indeed, 
but it is hard to refrain from ' My daughter ! Oh my daughter ! ' 
And it's so much easier making promises and getting into 
scrapes than fulfilling them and getting out again." 

This incident might be passed by were it not that it not 
only was mixed up with further outside interferences which 
were the cause of mental strain to B IV, but it furnished 
the motive, as may be seen from the above letters, for the 
following manifestations of aboulia. It was an exhibition 


of as beautiful examples of this phenomenon as one could 
wish to see. By this means Sally prevented B I and B IV 
from handing over the pages of the manuscript which 
were in their possession. 

Sally, after finishing the pages of the manuscript that 
were the task of the day, had hidden them in her dress, 
with the intention of carrying them off surreptitiously. 
While I was remonstrating with her she suddenly changed 
to B I, who, hearing the last few words of the scolding 
Sally was receiving, and thinking it was meant for herself, 
earnestly expressed herself as perfectly willing to help in 
every way in her power. As a test I asked her to give 
me the autobiography which Sally had just hidden. At 
once her whole manner changed ; her face took on a gloomy 
and vacant expression, and she kept repeating, in a stereo- 
typed way the words, "I don't want to give it to you, I 
don't want you to have it." She was then hypnotized and 
changed to B II, who began to assure me that she wished 
to do anything I wished her to do; but there was some- 
thing in her, she did not know what it was, that made her 
use those expressions, "I don't want you to have it," etc. 
It was the same thing that constantly made her say and do 
things that she did not want to say or do. Later, after 
several changes of personality, B IV appeared. The same 
test was made with her as with B I to see if she could give 
me the hidden autobiography. She expressed a strong de- 
sire that I should have it; said that she was afraid to trust 
herself with it at home, and wanted to give it to me, but 
when I made the demand that she should hand it to me 
she would not make more than a superficial effort to find 
it. She tried in a half-hearted, hesitating, feeble way to 
find it by feeling through her dress, but without success. 
I assured her that the autobiography was hidden on her 
person, and explained the situation, stimulating her ambi- 
tion not to be beaten by Sally. She remonstrated warmly 


against the interference of that personality, but when urged 
to hand over the manuscript she was unable to make the 
effort, and only gave excuses for not making a thorough 
search. It was evident that something was preventing 
her from exerting her will-power, as it had B I, but in a 
somewhat different way, to obtain possession of the manu- 
script. She was left alone in the room to make a thorough 
search, but it was without avail. There was no doubt 
that both B I and B IV desired to obtain the manuscript, 
and to hand it over, but they could not will to hunt for it. 
Later, Sally, in a penitent mood, explained how she pro- 
duced this aboulia. She had not directly willed that IV 
and B I should not search for the manuscript, but she had 
" wanted " them not to do so. Her subconscious thoughts 
and feelings had involuntarily affected the primaiy con- 
sciousness. The words that B I spoke were, of course, 
"automatic speech," and were uttered by Sally. 

Under the wear and tear of all this mental strain both 
B IV and B I got into a highly unstable condition, and 
an opportunity was soon offered of observing further 

Before describing what occurred it may not be with- 
out interest to recall the case of Marie M., reported by 
Dr. J. M. Boeteau, and mentioned in the footnote to page 
459. The similarity of the phenomena manifested by 
Marie M. with those which now developed in B IV is 

This young woman, Marie M., was greatly shocked by 
being told that she must undergo a surgical operation. 
Still under the influence of this nervous shock she left the 
hospital of Andral in Paris at 10 o'clock in the morning, 
but remembered nothing more until she awoke three days 
later to find herself in another hospital in the same city. 
She had been found, on the evening of the day on which 
she left the hospital, wandering around the streets of 


Paris in a condition of maniacal excitement, with hag- 
gard aspect, worn-out boots, and lacerated feet. It tran- 
spired that under the influence of a delusion in regard to 
her baby, which she imagined was being kept from her, 
she had walked to Chaville, then on to Versailles, and 
back to Paris. On coming to herself she had absolutely 
no recollection of these three days. On being hyjmotized 
by M. Boeteau, she passed into a state in which she 
remembered the events of this period, including both her 
wanderings and her delusions, which were at first con- 
nected with her baby, but later included spectral surgeons 
who endeavored to perform operations upon her. 

The noteworthy points in this case are the condition of 
mental disintegration into which this young woman was 
thrown by a powerful emotion and the recollection of the 
disordered mentation by the hypnotic self. 

So, in the case of the state into which B IV changed, 
both Sally and B II could recall afterwards the wanderings 
and the delirium of the disintegrated personality, but there 
was this difference : II recalled the delirium as her oivn^ 
while Sally recalled it as that of another person, for she 
remembered also the true perceptions and cognition of 
the environment which she believed to be her own. The 
thing happened in this wise : 

One day after vainly attempting to change B IV a into 
BUI left the former half asleep, so to speak, think- 
ing she would wake up spontaneously as B I or IV. But 
two hours later I found awaiting my return neither of 
those personalities, but another, who, though she knew 
me, did not seem to know herself. She could not tell 
who she was or where she lived. Her eyes were open, 
and she was docile and willing to follow directions. VVliile 
I was engaged in telephoning she left the house before it 
was possible to stop her. In the evening the following 
note from Sally arrived : 


"Won't you please come or send Dicky to-night? I can't 
do anything myself and am so afraid she 'II go wandering off 
again. She 's been out all the afternoon. I think you did n't 
quite wake her up, or something. Please help. 

" Sally. 

*' I don't know what to do alone. Anna is n't any good when 
things are serious, for they dislike her too much." 

Sally I found in bed, at last anxious and disturbed over 
the condition into which she had helped to bring the 
family. It appeared that after leaving my ofRce this 
" New " person had taken a street-car to Cambridge. It 
was midwinter and a blizzard had been raging all the 
afternoon, and in this blizzard " she " had walked about 
in a semi-delirious way for several miles. " She " had be- 
come wet and cold and had had several chills alternating 
with hot flushes. Sally was plainly alarmed for fear " she," 
the "new one," was going to be ill, though Sally herself 
felt perfectly well. Sally was afraid " she " would go out 
of the house again in the blizzard, as " she " had already 
made several attempts to do. So finding herself unable to 
influence her, or even to come herself of her own accord, 
Sally had circumvented her by taking off her own clothes, 
hiding them, and popping into bed. When the "new 
one," with whom Sally had been spontaneously alternat- 
ing, found herself without clothes she plainly had to 

This state might be called B IV d, or, if it is preferred, 
Ba (a disintegrated part of the real self). Sally, peni- 
tent, helped to bring IV, who, after a good night's sleep 
awoke, feeling banged and battered and bruised, but no 
longer desirous of getting away from control. 

[Letter from Sally, penitent :] — "I'm coming up to-morrow 
morning instead of in the afternoon. I 'd rather, and I know 
you won't care. It was n't wholly because of that 



rV went wandering, and she did n't confine her wandering to 
Cambridge. Did you write it down so? I was afraid to tell 
you all about it — afraid you'd scold me, but I'd rather be 
scolded, I think, than have you look as sorry and troubled as 
you did to-day. . . . And I think understanding things per- 
fectly, even though they may be very bad, is better than being 
puzzled and in the dark. Only it 's hard telling you, for if 
other people are concerned they are n't willing to have me. 
And I myself am not very willing, for I know I do a great many 
things that you would not approve and I do not like to tell 
about them afterward. B I has been writing you this evening 
about a dozen letters, but as none of them are finished I know 
you won't want them. She 's awfully distressed and fancies 
that you are trying to get rid of her and wants to go and dares 
not. From her thoughts she is mixed up with IV in a curious 
way. . . . 

' ' Tuesday. Please save this for me." 

But the effects of the mental strain were not over yet. 
A day or two later another opportunity was afforded to 
study this new person into whom B IV a had changed on 
opening her eyes. She proved to be quite a distinct per- 
sonality, so much so that I was disposed to name her 
B VII. Her mental life was extremely contracted, being 
limited practically to the experiences which she had 
already had during the few times that she had been in 

She had no memory of the lives of B I, B II, B IV or 
Sally. She could not tell me a single thing that any one 
of them had done or said, but she recalled her own doings; 
for instance, those on the day she went to Cambridge in 
the blizzard. She knew me, in a limited way. Her mode 
of speech, attitude, and manner were individual and 
characteristic. She was plainly a disintegrated field of 
consciousness. But it is highly probable that if her 
experiences had been frequently multiplied we could have 
obtained a personality quite as individual as IV. But 


this, of course, was discouraged and every effort made to 
prevent her development. In this, fortunately, I was suc- 
cessful, and her experiences after this were very few and 

Psychologically, all these states are interesting, for as 
spontaneous phenomena they bear out the experiments of 
Gurney (already alluded to), who was the first to show 
■ thaJLthere is no definite particular hypnotic self for each 
_JiQdiyi^ual, but that a sensiti ve subject may be successively 
thrown into a series of " states , " ea ch with its own sepa- 
i-ate groups of memories. He thus obtained three dis- 
tinct states in the same subject. Mrs. Sedgwick and 
Miss Thompson afterwards obtained eight. ^ 

Such states represent minor or undeveloped forms of 
personalities. They depend on the one hand upon the 
dissociation of the normal personal consciousness by which 
certain memories and perceptions are lost, and on the 
other, on a rearrangement or new synthesis of the psychi- 
cal factors (memories, moods, etc.) which make up per- 
sonality. The new synthesis may have a very limited field 
of consciousness, differing from the original personality 
rather by what it has lost than by what it has gained. It 
may have very little spontaneity and power to originate 
action, and so far as its memories and mental reactions 
persist they may show little variation from the pereonality 
out of which it has been formed. Such a synthesis is con- 
veniently spoken of as a "s^a^e," whether so-called "hyp- 
notic" or not. 

When the new synthesis is complex and embraces a 

^ Since this study was written Dr. Albert Wilson has reported a case ex- 
hibiting ten personalities besides the normal self. Each abnormal personal- 
ity exhibited a very much di.siiitegrated mind,'with limited faculties. (S. P. R. 
Proceedings, Oct., 1904). The various .sub-states obtained in Miss Bean- 
champ's case correspond very well with tliose of Dr. Wilson's case, and if 
I had allowed them to remain and develop we might have had as many 
personalities, but with similarly restricted fields of conscionsness. 


wide field of consciousness, we have what to all intents 
and purposes is a complete personality. It may have its 
own groups of memories, with amnesia for the original 
personal synthesis, and its own peculiar reactions to the 
environment (moods), thus differing in memory and moods 
from the original self. It is conveniently termed a second 
or third personality. 

Theoretically, a normal personal consciousness may be 
disintegrated in all sorts of ways, so that any group of 
memories, and even functions and faculties, may be lost; 
and all sorts of combinations of memories, functions, and 
faculties may be formed. Practically, we find that what 
is theoretically possible actually takes place, and thus it 
happened that in the case of ]\Iiss Beauchamp, new per- 
sonalities or new hypnotic states could be formed out of 
each of the others. 

The difference between the psychological relations of 
Sally and those of B I and B IV to these disintegrated 
states should not be overlooked. The two latter had no 
knowledge of B IV d, for instance, while Sally not only 
knew all about her but, as a sane personalit}'^ alternated 
with this delirious one. Everything indicated too that 
true perceptions and recognition of the environment did 
occur, as dissociated states, coincidently with and sub- 
consciously to the delirium, for Sally remembered them 
and believed at least that they were her own. 



THE spring of 1901 will live in the annals of the Beau- 
champ family as a critical period for its peace and 
happiness. It saw a feud which was intended to be a life 
or death struggle, a fight to a finish, between IV and Sally. 
One or the other, so the manifesto issued by the former 
read, must be mistress; or rather, "Carthage must be 
destroyed." Sally must go. The clouds had been gather- 
ing for some time, as far back as February. IV had 
issued another ultimatum and a threatening letter which 
IV planned to send to Anna, to get rid of that person's 
interference. Sally happened to have a fit of penitence, 
as far as I was concerned, and so I was treated to the 
following epistle: 

" Shall I write about Miss K. and Anna and all the things that 
occurred when C. first came to Boston ? ^ B IV does n't know 
about them yet and I 'm sure will deny the truth of whatever I 
may say, for she likes Miss K., and is entirely mistaken about 
the way in which Anna came into her life. She has false im- 
pressions about so many things ! and is so conceited and so 
stuffy that she will accept neither correction nor suggestion 
from me. She is willing enough to snatch at the faintest hint 
from other people, and to infer from every such hint that she, 
as B I, has said and done certain things. She is an idiot, and 
this I know positively since I have known her thoughts. 

" Shall I ignore all this and go on as if she were in posses- 
sion of the real facts? I don't wish to if it is going to make 
her angry and lead her to form more schemes for squeezing me. 
I'm sufficiently squeezed now, thanks to her abominable temper. 

* For the Autobiography. 


"Don't let her send any such letters as the enclosed to Anna. 
She is going to submit whatever she writes to your inspection, 
and you can cinticise it then. [B] I wouldn't like it, really^ for 
she 's never rude to people and she does n't dislike Anna half 

as intensely as IV does, and she does n't wish to hurt . 

"Very, very sincerely, 

"S. B. 

" Why may I not write you now? You said long ago I 
might write every day if I chose, and even that you wished me 
to do so. Is it different now? Are you too tired to read 
letters? You aren't old yet. Perhaps I will go to Dicky if 
it 's better. I would rather go than have you always tired and 

"S. B." 

The protocol of B IV*s ultimatum to Sally [Feb., 1901] 
ran as follows : 

" No communication whatever with J. or Anna. 

" No interference with mail. 

" No letters to Dr. Prince or to myself ; except, in the case 
of myself, when they may be absolutely necessary to give 

" No more snakes, toads, spiders, and such absurdities. 

" No more hallucinations, whether of sight, touch, or hear- 

" No more nonsense concerning Dr. Prince. 

" Also she must not receive or spend any money beyond a 
fixed weekly allowance which I shall give her — she to keep 
it separately and spend it as she may choose. 

" She must not destroy any of my notes or interfere in any 
way with the work I may choose to do. 

"She must finish the autobiography immediately, confining 
herself as far as possible to personal experience, and leaving 
out all that concerns other people. 

" She must allow me to choose my own friends, and to 
determine for myself wliat I shall eat, drink, and wear, as well 
as where I shall stay." 


If Sally did not accept and abide by the terms of thia 
protocol then B IV was to resort to extreme measures, — 
an asylum if need be. One great grievance of which IV 
complained was Sally's choice of friends. These people 
were very objectionable to her. "I must be allowed to 
choose my own friends," she insisted. How could she if 
Sally was free to hob-nob with anybody ? On waking up 
(that is, coming to herself) she found herself constantly 
and unexpectedly in friendly relations with people whose 
personality was distasteful, and in situations where she was 
obliged to play parts foreign to her own character. For 
instance, there was some friend of somebody's — to be sure 
she did not know positively whether of Sally or B I (but 
presumably of Sally) — named Miss Lamartine, a French 
woman, whom she seemed to see very frequently. This 
woman's personality and foreign point of view were dis- 
tasteful to IV. Then there were two art students, girls, 
whom she knew very slightly, but with whom Sally was on 
intimate terms. She disliked their attitude towards her. 
They expected her to be always amusing, in high spirits, 
gay, and frivolous, — ways which were not natural to her 
own disposition. She could not play that part, and when 
she came to herself and found herself talking with them, 
they, seeing the sudden transformation in her manner, of 
course thought her moody, strange, and changeable. They 
treated her as one much younger than themselves, whereaa 
she is really older. 

Then, equally uncomfortable were the occasions when 
others, like the Rev. Mr. C, who knew her only as Miss 
Beauchamp, spoke to her and treated her as morbidly 
conscientious and unhappy; whereas, she, B IV, is not 
so at all, and finds it difficult to live up to any such 
lofty part. In fact, she can not attain to the high ideals 
of Miss Beauchamp. She finds it as difficult to live up to 
the standard of this other self as to come down to the 


standard of Sally. Then Miss Beauchamp's friends bored 
her as much as Sally's offended her. B I had a lot of old 
lady friends whom she liked to visit and to whom she was 
very kind. They were " awfully stupid, and bored " B IV. 
To wake up and find youi'self obliged to be pleasant and 
friendly to such people is a terrible trial, she complained. 
And so it went on. 

I listened to B IV's tale of woe as she unburdened her- 
self and earnestly insisted on something being done, but it 
was easier to threaten and insist than to do. Sally in turn 
told her side of the story — all penitence now gone in a 
I twinkling — and defiantly proclaimed what she was going 
to do. As to her friends, they were great fun. She was 
going, too, to have an allowance to spend as she pleased ; 
whether or not IV paid her bills was no concern of hers. 
They were not her bills, but IV's, and she had no respon- 
sibility for them. One thing she was going to do and that 
was to spend all the money she pleased. 

The war clouds were gathering thick and fast. Letters 
of complaint poured in upon me. It was difficult to under- 
stand the meaning of many of them, for they referred to 
fictitious stories which Sally invented, often at my expense, 
to annoy both IV and B I. 

"If you really," IV wrote, " have such power over Sally as 
you claim, I think it positively wicked of you not to make a 
different and better use of it. You know so well the utter 
worthlessness of all her promises, yet in exacting fresh ones 
you seem to think you have done all that is necessary in order 
that I may ' go in peace.' It is not so. Weeks and weeks ago 
I begged that you would help me about certain things. Yes, yon 
would ; you would see Sally at once. You saw her, explained, 
received her promise, and — things went exactly as the}' had 
gone before. I waited — a long time it seemed. Then I 
appealed to you again. Again your promise ; again Sally's ; 
and again — nothing. This is the last time. I shall not ask 
you again, but for this once let there be perfect frankness 



between us. If it is my attitude towards you that renders you 
unwilling to help me, tell me so. If it is something else, lack 
of comprehension, or real inability, or weariness, I would know, 
I must know." 

B I also became troubled by Sally's inventions, as indi- 
cated by the following letter. The contrast between the 
two letters is psychologically interesting. 

" I saw you for so brief a moment at the last that I cannot 
be sure ' all is well.' This latest phase of Sally's development 
troubles me exceedingly. It must come from something J. or 
Anna has said to her, for she has been loyal enough hitherto. 
And if it is from them and is accepted so credulously, is there 
not danger of her repeating it? Who can say ! It would kill 
me, or worse. The very thought makes me suffer. Do what 
you can to curb her unruly tongue. It is all so mysterious, so 
puzzling, that I dare not make any suggestion. I leave it all 
to you, asking only your forgiveness for the past, your faith 
for the days to come. I shall need it ! 

" Pardon! I cannot rewrite, although Sally has spoiled this. 
It is very late." 

As would be expected, all this harrowing brought on 
the old nervous symptoms, and then Sally, at last helpless 
and brought to her knees, wrote for assistance. 

" Will you come some time to-day if you can? Give IV the 
enclosed note without any explanation if she 's inclined to be 
nasty about answering questions. If she is n't and does what 
you tell her, please destroy it here and put it in my basket, — 
because I want you to. She will do anything you say without 
reservation then. Please come. 

" I can't dress or I would come to you. I will be good. 

" They are sick, that is why I want you." 

B IV's dread of being in the streets at night still further 
worked upon her nerves. To be out at such times scared 
her blue, while, curiously enough, neither B I nor Sally 


had the slightest fear. This gave Sally a chance which 
she could not resist taking advantage of. So it happened 
that night after night IV would suddenly awaken to find 
herself alone in the streets of the city. Terrified, she 
would hurry home as fast as her feet could carry her. 

" I am too nervous and excited," she wrote, after returning 
from a nightly peregrination, " to attempt to write you at any 
length to-night ([interlineation by Sally] ' Nobody asked you, 
Sir, she said.') This going out in the evening, however coolly 
B I and Sally may take it, does not agree with me in the least. 
I have never been accustomed to it and never shall be. 

" I want to tell you that there is no reason why I should not 
be perfectly frank with you now. That I still evade and shrink 
from answering your questions must be due in some way to 
Sally's influence. I want to tell you." 

[P. S. by Sally] " I waited and she did not come, called and 
she did not answer. Amen. S. B." 

[From IV, in reference to Sally's taking a forbidden 
book :] 

*' I have every reason to believe that you are mistaken in 
trusting Sally. You cannot touch her by appealing to her 
honor. Do remember this. She is worse than a child, since 
she is able to masquerade as B I and so obtain credence for 
anything she may choose to say. In haste, but 

" Very sincerely," 

Affairs finally reached a climax and IV's resolution was 
taken. She would kill Sally. Her other self was no 
longer to be treated as a rational person. It was nothing 
but a "delirium," and as such must be suppressed. I 
was entirely wrong, she was convinced, in my dealings with 
Sally, whose claims for recognition should receive no con- 
sideration whatsoever. IV was now to show us how to 
manage her case. She laid her plans with great care. 
First, she wrote letters to Dr. Hodgson and myself announc- 



ing her plan and notifying us of her wish that we should 
not interfere. She herself under no circumstances would 
come to us for help. Here is the letter I received : 

"I shall never recognize 'Sally' as anything but mental 
delirium, nor treat it with any more consideration in the future 
than I have in the past — with less, for I propose killing it, and 
I do not wish either you or Dr. Hodgson to interfere. You 
must let me quite alone, and send me away if, as ' Sally,* I 
appeal to you. As B I there will be no trouble. I am sure 
you will help me to help myself. 

" Do not answer this, please. I begin treatment at once." 

The next thing was to head off Miss Beauchamp and 
prevent her upsetting the scheme by appealing for aid, as 
she was sure to do when the fight began. To this end she 
wrote B I a letter, using such arguments as she thought 
would appeal to her. She argued that I was entirely 
wrong in my views and treatment, that Sally was a deli- 
rium and could be cured by a different method. She then 
explained her plan, asked B I 's aid, and gave her direc- 
tions for the part she was to play. After this she felt 
satisfied there was nothing to fear from B I. A letter was 
then despatched to Sally. Its temper was very different 
from that to B I. Appeals to Sally's reason, she later 
explained to me, would have no effect. So she sent a 
message that was to make her arch enemy tremble. Freely 
translated, it meant that if Sally did not at once surrender 
and give up all her habits, ways, tricks, and annoyances, 
and pack herself oil for good, bag and baggage, she, B IV, 
would consign her to everlasting oblivion. 

For myself, 1 thought it would be interesting to let IV 
have her way and to watch the fight. Hostilities opened 
at once. Sally took the announcement contained in the 
letters as a declaration of war, and evidently believed in 
the military maxim of striking the enemy quickly before 


he has time to arm. B IV had left the note, intended for 
me, in person at ray door. 

On her return, immediately upon entering her own room 
; she found it draped in black. The only white object to be 
seen was a small plaster cast of a devil known as " Teddy." 
Teddy now grinned at her from his perch above the window, 
white and conspicuous against the black funereal back- 
ground. Artistically suspended to Teddy's ear was a 
three-cornered paper pouch cunningly made. The pouch 
excited IV's curiosity; she must see what it contained. 
The moment she touched it a deluge of tiny pieces of paper 
fell to the ground. A note addressed to her from Sally 
now became visible. She opened it eagerly. Had Sally 
dared to defy her ? If IV had had any doubts the note 
dispelled them, for it informed her that what she so boldly 
had insisted was only a "delirium" had already^ seized 
and confiscated all the papers it could lay hands on, which 
meant all that she possessed, including many valuable 
pages of notes of lectures difficult, if not impossible, to 
replace. These were torn into httle bits and now littered 
the floor. Next she found that the family purse had 

The black drapery of the room, she was able to convince 
herself, was a hallucination, Sally's handiwork, and, with 
everything else, was to be ignored if Sally was to be crushed. 
So, resolutely disregarding everything that had happened, 
she began to change her clothes to go out again. What 
now happened I shall let her tell substantially in her own 

" While I was brushing my hair a sensation of great fatigue 
came over me, the effect of the exciting day I liad just passed 
through. I finished, however, and then as I sat in my chair, 

^ There was a brief interval after writing the letters aud before leaving 
the house to deliver mine, daring which Sally bad come and seized the papers. 


I stooped to change my slippers when, with a sudden shock of 
horror, I saw directly facing me at the opposite side of my 
room my own feet. They were white and shining against the 
black background. I fell back in my chair overcome. 

" At once I was conscious of pain in my legs below the knees 
and of a feeling that my feet were gone. I felt for the moment 
certain that this was the fact, for I had no sensation below the 
seat of the pain. My legs seemed to end in stumps and I in- 
stinctively leaned forward to protect them with my hands, 
keeping my eyes fixed upon the feet opposite to me. But the 
next moment I realized that this too was but another device 
of Sally's, intended to prevent my going out. I told myself 
this over and over again. ' It is only Sally,' I said. ' It is 
only Sally ' ; yet I could not move or take my eyes from those 
feet. I had an agonizing desire to touch them and convince 
myself they were not real. But this seemed impossible. They 
were at the farther end of the room and I was alone. Then a 
great fear surged up within me. Sally had always treated my 
body as if it were not even remotely connected with herself, 
cutting, scratching, and bruising it in a way so shocking that 
it is hard to believe. Could she now have gone farther and 
really have done this? It did not seem impossible. 

"I was in the greatest pain and could feel nothing below 
my knees. Finally, making a great effort, I threw myself on 
the floor and dragged my body across the room. I brought 
myself near enough to touch the feet ; — they were bloody. I 
had only to stretch out my hand, but my courage failed, they 
were so ghastly. I waited ; it seemed hours ; I could only look 
at them. Then, making a supreme effort to touch, ever so 
lightly, the nearer one, I found my fingers stained with blood, 
and — fainted, or changed, I do not know which." 

The nights were made hideous for IV. To allow her 
to sleep was to give her a chance to renew her strength 
and courage. So Sally kept her awake the greater part of 
the night. Sometimes IV no sooner would get to bed than 
Sally, " coming," would rise, throw the bedding on the 
floor, pile heaps of furniture on the bed, and turn ^ the 


room generally upside down. When satisfied that every- 
thing was sufficiently uncomfortable she would change 
herself back to IV again. This would be repeated as often 
as IV got into bed. Every day she would spring some new 
impish invention upon her opponent. It would carry us 
too far to narrate them all here. Dressing was a burden, 
for every article of dress was hidden or damaged ; meals 
repulsive, for she saw all sorts of unpleasant things in her 
food, and every movement painful, for she was bruised 
from head to foot. But IV was game. I saw her from 
time to time, but though exhausted from want of sleep she 
was still defiant and wanted no help. She was determined 
to conquer Sally. So I looked on without interfering, and 
watched the battle from afar. I knew that Sally would 
eventually down her. 

The nightly visitations of Sally now took a different| 
form. One night IV awoke to find herself perched upon\ 
a shaky structure composed of a couch, two chairs, and a \ 
dress-suit case. She was stark naked, and in an attitude 
as if posing for a statue. Her limbs fixed, as if by some 
occult power, unable to move hand or foot, she was entirely 
helpless save for the power of speech which would ill have 
served her under the circumstances. She could not call 
for help, for what a spectacle she presented ! Another 
night, if it was very cold, an exposed position in the deep 
window-seat was selected as her niche ; while the next 
night, if the pose was a reclining one, the hard surface of the 
top of the commode, measuring three feet by two, offered 
a sufficiently comfortable and commodious couch. In this 
position she was kept posing an hour at a time, " until," 
she wrote, "I would lose myself from anger, cold, and 

At firat IV thought that Sally's intention in all this pos- 
ing was simply to tire her out, but presently the real 
meaning flashed upon her. It was a punishment for her 


sins She had been reading a certain book on art which 
had interested her deeply. There was no harm in that, — 
how could there be, for a clergyman had loaned it to her ? 
But the book was highly objectionable both to B I and 
Sally. They had even appealed to me to forbid it. Now 
it was as plain as day that the attitudes she was made to 
assume were reproductions of the illustrations in the book. 
She recalled each one to her mind and, sure enough, her 
poses were those of the illustrations. She was doing the 
" living statue " act. " Sally doubtless thought," she said, 
" my conscience would enlighten me — and it has." 

Again the attack changed. Hallucinations beset her on 
every hand. She saw herself surrounded with black, mov- 
ing draperies. As she walked the streets, an endless pro- 
cession of black-robed figures accompanied her, some with 
familiar faces, but most with countenances that changed 
horribly from moment to moment. Then, again, tlie hallu- 
cination involved her own body. She felt that her right 
hand had been lost, and consequently she was forced to use 
her left hand for everything. With this hand alone slie 
was obliged to sew, to write, to lift, to bathe, to dress. 
The tiresomeness of it all oppressed her. Still there was no 
thought of giving in. 

The climax was reached when Sally took to actual phys- 
ical torture. One day IV showed me her arms. There 
were numerous and ugly scratches extending the whole 
length, evidently made with some sharp-pointed instru- 
ment. After scratching the flesh, Sally had bathed the 
scratches in alcohol and made them sting, saying it was 
good treatment ; then she rubbed lemon juice in and said 
that was good treatment too. Poor IV was so sore she 
could not bear to have heT arms or body touched. She 
was nervously worn and haggard from want of sleep, as 
well as from the mental strain to which she had been continu- 
ously subjected. The war had been going on now, for 


about two weeks, and she was so exhausted that Sally 
found it easy to play upon her mind as she would. 

The worst of it was that B I suffered equally, though 
she was ignorant of the cause ; the physical exhaustion of 
the one was shared by the other. It was surely time to 
interfere if I was not to have an invalid on ray hands. I 
pointed out to IV the uselessness of it all, the wrongness 
of her own ideas, and the futility of her attempt to cure her 
"delirium," if such she chose to call it, by the methods she 
had adopted. She finally assented and yielded submis- 
sion. There remained Sally to be dealt with. Piesently 
the opportunity arrived. Sally was captured by surprise, 
though she tried to escape by pretending she was IV. 
I upbraided her for her behavior, telling her that all this 
ill-treatment of IV must stop, and that if she did not mend 
her conduct, I would close her eyes and ears for good, and 
put her to sleep forever with ether, and she never could 
come again. I talked long and earnestly on the condition 
of affairs. She was much impressed by the threat and her 
face fell, taking on an expression of depression jind sad- 
ness. I told her she had better consider it well and make 
her choice, — either behave or go for good, and then left 
her alone in the room to think it over. On my return she 
had gone, but this note was awaiting me : 

" I h.ive thought it all over and decided that you may ether- 
ize me and close my eyes again. I will come and let you do it 
to-morrow — but please do not talk. 

''C. L. B." 

She was ready to commit suicide, to give up all the fun, 
the frolics, the sunshine of life, but her sorrow should be 
her own. It must not be talked about ; that she could not 

But Sally was not ready the next day to depart this life. 
There was more for her to do before taking the final step. 


People, before they died, wrote their " last will and testa- 
ment," she explained, so she must write hers. It must 
have been a curious document. I never saw it, but I 
heard about it from IV, who was puzzled by what she read, 
not knowing what it all meant. Probably some freak of 
Sally's she thought ; but Sally was in earnest. Then Sally 
wrote a number of letters stating her opinion about people. 
These and various other papers, the last pages of the 
" auto," letters from her friends which she treasured, little 
keepsakes and presents given her from time to time for her 
own, not to B I or IV, — all these she gathered together and 
put into a box. Then going far out into the country, in a 
secret place in a wood, she buried her box of treasures, 
that no eye might look upon them when she was gone.^ 

All this had to be done before Sally could " return to 
where she came from," and so it was that the next day she 
was not ready. I saw her by accident. Sad and serious, all 
her playfulness gone, she was like a person about to de- 
part this life, who was saying good-by to her friends. 
At last she realized that the world was not what she 
thought it; her doll was full of sawdust. She could 
not do as she pleased and what fun was there for her? 
Everybody seemed to be against her. B IV was a horrid 
person. She did not like her; she did not like anybody 
but herself. As for me, I did not think or talk the same 
as she did. Things did not mean the same to each of us. 
People said she was a child and treated her like a child, 
and not as they did B I and B IV. She received nothing 
but scoldings. She used to like me, but I, too, said she 
was only an infant. She did not understand what other 
people meant and they did not understand her. Then 
Sally expressed some curious ideas about the relation of 

1 In later days this bnried box of letters was a source of great anxiety to 
IV, wlio feared that some one might accidentally come across it — and what 
might it not reveal ! 


herself to her body. She insisted that her body did not 
belong to her, nor was it a part of her ^ any more than her 
clothes were. She simply used it but did not feel as if it 
belonged to her. Following up this idea, I plied her with 
questions, in answer to which she went into a long expla- 
nation, the substance of which was that she felt that she 
was just thought, without a body, and she seemed to have 
the idea that she could be independent of her body, if she 
wished to be, although she was not an " astral " body. 
She did not believe in " that kind of stuff." 

There was a pathos in her child troubles that compelled 
one's sympathy in spite of everything. But much as 
Sally with her gayety and merriness would be missed, she 
could not be considered. " Carthage must be destroyed." 
Sally must die that Miss Beauchamp might live. At last 
dawn seemed to be breaking. Would Sally keep her reso- 
lution to go back to where she came from, or would she for- 
get everything at the first temptation thrown in her path ? 
A child's tears are quickly turned to laughter, and I knew 
it was unsafe to build too high hopes on Sally's new reso- 
lution ; it could hardly be called reform. Still it was an 
opportunity not to be lost, if the family was to be restored 
to its original unity. Etherized Sally should be. Yet, if 
she disappeared for good, there would still remain two per- 
sonalities. To combine them into one person required the 
consent of IV. Would she give it, now that she had seen 
the uselessness of struggling against fate, — I would rather 
say against psychical laws. Any hopes I had formed on 
this score were soon dispelled. Relieved from the attacks 
of Sally, IV was free to turn her guns upon her other enemy, 
or, if enemy is too strong a word, upon the one person, 
myself, who crossed her path and thwarted her desires. 

The feud had left her exhausted, neurasthenic, psychi- 

1 It will be remembered that Sally had a peculiar form of anesthesia, which 
probably explains this idea. 


cally disintegrated. It had always happened that when 
exhausted her ideas tended to become " insistent " or 
" fixed," and she herself became their victim. Governed 
by them she became rebellious, and when rebellious she 
would yield to no dictation, advice, or control. It cannot 
be disguised either that when disintegrated by exhaustion 
her temper, never at any time the best, became uncon- 
trollable. The slightest provocation lashed it into fury. 
Sometimes, as a mere matter of experiment in the study of 
character and to demonstrate to others the differences be- 
tween B I and IV, I would purposely arouse this temper. 
I had simply to assert an authority, when, in a flash, she 
would be boiling internally with rage, though externally 
she might endeavor to hide it. So, now that Sally had re- 
treated, the objective of the war was simply transferred to 
me as the point of attack ; hostilities did not cease. To 
repair the havoc which Sally had made, I sought once 
more to combine the personalities into one, to give to each 
the memories of the other. But again the old fixed ideas 
began to surge within IV and to control her. Ignorant of 
the seven years from 1893 to 1899, when B I alone ^ was in 
existence, she sought to break from us, her new friends, 
and to return to the old associations which Miss Beauchamp 
had severed forever. 

Then again she saw herself, as in the earlier experiments, 
dominated by my influence. She felt herself when re- 
associated rejoicing in her mental attitude towards her 
new friends. The thought maddened her. " Not like B I, 
not like B 1 1 Never ! " she declared. She would leave us all, 
rather, and return to her old life. 

The thought became an obsession. So it was that, with 
Sally's surrender, hostilities did not cease, but were simply 
transferred to another objective, to any of her latter-day 
friends who opposed her, and particularly to myself. Of 

1 Excepting, of course, that Sally was present during 1898-1899. 


course all this, looked at from a psychological point of 
view, was nothing but the expression of the disintegration, 
the psychical havoc raised by Sally — a phenomenon of 
dissociation. From the standpoint of the physician, the 
only thing to do was to integrate again the dissociated 
psychical elements. The logical way to do this was to 
integrate B I and B IV into a single personality and make 
them whole. I succeeded again in doing this so far as to 
restore to B I, as the fundamental personality, the mem- 
ories of B IV, as I had often previously done. The result 
was in one way fortunate and in another unfortunate. 
The unfortunate part was that it " squeezed " Sally, and 
she was unable, as she intended, to transform IV or I into 
herself and thus keep her engagement to be etherized her- 
self. She remained helpless, out of sight, though IV was 
under observation. More fortunate was the other effect, 
that the modified B I, now conscious of IV's attitude of 
mind, was able to lay bare the kitter's thoughts. 

On April 16, 1901, after a contest with IV in which I 
came out best, I received a letter from the New /, who was 
anxious to apologize for her attitude as IV and to explain 
for my benefit the motives which were actuating the 
latter. I cannot print the letter in full because it refers to 
others and to private matters. It was an appeal for help 
against herself. After explaining and apologizing for IV's 
attitude, she points out that IV's desire to return to her 
old life "comes largely from ignorance ; that, and a curi- 
ous fancy that anything beyond the most formal expression 
of gratitude is disloyal to others." 

"... I cannot bear to have my ignorance even hinted at. 
Forgive me! I tell you this only that you may understand 
better, not that you may refrain from probing me. I want 
you to do that, to help me, to keep me from going back. 
I have the strongest desire as IV to do so. . . . Sooner or 
later I shall give in to this, and then, — oh, Dr. Prince, what 


then? I dare not think what fresh complications maj' arise, 
complications in which even you cannot help me, inasmuch as 
it is impossible to tell you of them. IV does not understand or 
realize the significance of these last letters. She is troubled 
by them only vaguely, as I would have been years ago. Do 
help her, or help me. Forget my weakness. If I could only 
see you, perhaps you might understand better.^ If I do not, 
won't you show me this letter as IV and force me to be frank 
with you? You are the only one who can help now. . . . 
Stay with me." 

Enclosed with this letter was the following from Sally : 

" Please close my eyes again, Dr. Prince, with the ether. I 
thought you would do it to-day, but I could n't come. I 'm not 
jealous now. This is all that [B] I wrote. IV wrote you too, 
but afterwards she tore the letter up. I have n't touched any- 
thing, and I just want my eyes closed. I 'm all squeezed." 

If I was to help Miss Beauchamp, IV must be controlled 
against her will by suggestion. To do this it was essential 
to change her into B II. But she could not be carried in 
hypnosis beyond B IV a against her will. For this her will- 
power must be broken. She had resolutely prepared herself 
for the struggle by giving herself auto-suggestions against 
mine. Over and over again in the intervals of my seeing 
her she repeated to herself the old formulas, such as, " I shall 
not change," " Nothing can influence me," " I shall stay my- 
self," " I shall tell nothing," " My will is the stronger," etc. 
As has been explained such suggestions affected B IV a so 
that she could not be changed to B II. I thought of B I's 
pathetic appeal, and disagreeable as was the task, deter- 
mined to do the job thoroughly. 

The day following the receipt of the above lettera I sent 
for her. As she entered the room a single glance was 

1 B I had written me numerous letters, hut all had been destroyed by IV 
or Sally. T